Samyaza
by Dragonofshadows115
Summary: Time marches forever on. Towers turn to ash and men to dust. The greatest of creations, though, weather the unstoppable wash of years. Elders teach the young and the young go on to build ever-greater works. Those who learn to stand upon the shoulders of giants can see unimagined wonders. Altpower. Fusion.
1. Spark - 1

Samyaza taught enchantments, and root-cuttings, Armaros the resolving of enchantments, Baraqiel taught astrology, Kokabiel the constellations, Chazaquiel the knowledge of the clouds, Araqiel the signs of the earth, Shamsiel the signs of the sun, and Sariel the course of the moon.

 _ **\- The Book of Enoch Vol. 1**_

Great spirits of all who lived before,

Take our hands and lead us.

Fill our hearts and souls with all you know.

 _ **\- Great Spirits, Phil Collins**_

 **XxXxXxXxX**

I finally managed to dig the mp3 player out of my bag and turn it on, feeling my way to the switch. The dim light from the screen illuminated a bleak sight. Smooth, damp walls stretched away into the darkness, going down at a shallow angle. I turned the light upwards, gritting my teeth against the pain of my leg, which felt as though someone had driven a hundred rusty nails into the bone.

A glossy shaft curved up and out of sight, the walls marked with who-knows-how-long's worth of water stains. It looked almost like a rocky waterslide slide. The crack in my glasses bisected it.

I wasn't going to be climbing back up there.

I cursed myself for hanging back from the tour group. Having the Trio picking at me would be better than being stuck down a cave.

"Can anyone hear me?" I yelled up the tunnel.

"Hear me, hear me," echoed back, but there was no reply. They must have moved on.

Damn them, and damn me for not being careful enough.

What to do, though? Should I stay here and keep yelling? Should I try and move? It was just so dark. It seemed as though the walls were pressing in on me, the shadows moving them forward inch by inch.

My breath was getting rough in my throat. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out heavily. Mustn't panic. What have I got?

I pulled my backpack open and shone the mp3 screen in. A pencil case, two notebooks, a pair of headphones, a copy of White Fang and a whole bunch of worksheets that Mr. Geddes had handed out when we left on the geography trip. Not exactly caving supplies. There was an empty bottle of water, too, which was less than useful.

I tried to get up, but stopped quickly. The pain in my leg grew to a searing-hot agony the moment I put weight on it. I tried again, this time being careful not to do so and hanging onto a protrusion on the wall with my free hand, then sank back down. The floor was too steep and slippery, I was sure that I would fall if I was forced to just go on one foot. I'd have to slide along on my butt if I wanted to move.

This was not looking good. There was no way I'd be able to climb up there with my leg like this. I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to with a healthy leg.

"HEY! I'm down here!" I yelled again, trying to ignore the choky feeling of panic growing in my throat at the thought of being stuck down here. I sat still, just listening. Nothing.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

My breathing was speeding up again. It took a conscious effort to bring it under control.

Alright, Taylor, what are our options? I thought to myself. Can't climb. If I stay here and keep yelling, they might hear me.

I looked down at the mp3 player. I had managed to get to sleep on the bus ride up past Boston, so it still had an almost-full battery. Still, I didn't want to waste it, seeing as it was my only source of light. On the other hand….

I peered out into the dark, sitting like a wall of cloying tar at the borders of my little ring of light. I really didn't like that, some childish part of me conjuring up monsters and crawling things to hide in it.

I'd keep the light on for a bit.

An hour later according to my watch, and I'd got nothing back at all. The tour was only meant to be half an hour, and we were almost halfway through when I fell.

I had rolled up the left leg of my pants to get a look at the part which was hurting so much. It took a while because I had to be careful not to press on the purple-blue discoloured bruise that had spread like ink in water over my shin and thigh. It was puffy and swollen, and I was very glad indeed that I had worn baggy pants. It was at least partly a self-distraction.

I was in trouble. BIG trouble. Geddes was a good teacher (by the low, low standards of Winslow) but he was the textbook definition of 'forgetful'. I couldn't even remember the last time he took roll. Certainly not before we went into the cave and probably not when they left. The only people who would likely note my absence were the Trio, and they'd probably just have a laugh over me getting lost. Dad would notice when I didn't get back, of course, but that wouldn't be until… this evening, probably. If I had a phone he might have been tipped off earlier by my not calling, but I didn't.

I tried to work out what would probably happen from there. Dad would probably call the police. I'd told him that I'd be going on a trip with the school, but I realized with trepidation that I couldn't remember ever telling him where the trip was going. So… he'd call the police, they'd probably call the school and they'd probably come here eventually. How long would that take, though? I would have to manage down here for a while, in any case.

I checked the mp3 player. It still had two of three bars, and experience said that the battery would probably last another three hours or so. I didn't need the light if I was just going to stay there where any search party would be more likely to find me. Plus, if something happens and I need to move, I'm going to want the light.

I switched it off and blinked at the sudden inky blackness. I held up a hand in front of where I thought my face was. I couldn't see it at all, not even the vague shape. I shivered a little, then closed my eyes and tried to think about something other than my situation, leaning back and propping up my head on my bag.

Before long, I had drifted off to sleep, lulled by the warmth and silence.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

I awoke to the sound of a grumbling stomach and aching back. The pain in my leg had subsided to a dull throb, but the moment I moved it it flared up again. A yelp of pain escaped me, then I gritted my

teeth. It took a moment for the pain to subside, then I checked my watch.

7:32 PM, it read. I had been down here for more than five hours. Would there be search parties yet?

"I'm here! Down the chute!" I yelled, hoping that there would be someone to hear. Still, nothing came back. Just the same low burble of water. Looking down the passage, faint as gossamer, I could see where it curved around to the left.

Wait. How can I see that?

The light was dim, very dim, but it was there. I must not have noticed earlier because my eyes hadn't adjusted properly to the dark after turning off the mp3 player. If there was light, there had to be a source. Maybe a way out, or a shaft up to the surface? Maybe there was something else down here, a tinker's lab or something. The thought reminded me of a 90s comic Dad had given me when I was younger, all about a teenager who fell into a tinker's lab and ended up as a sidekick.

Even if there wasn't a way out, though, there was light, and that would make this much more bearable.

Now, how to get to it?

Another grumble from my stomach reminded me of why I had woken up. It wasn't too bad, but I didn't have anything to help with it. No food, and no water either. I tried to ignore the hunger, testing my less-injured leg. I could probably slide along down there on my back, or on my good leg and arms. Getting back up might be a problem, but I could do it this way. Armed with determination I threw my things back into the bag, put it on my stomach and started off towards the light.

It was slow going, but I managed to squirm and slide my way down to where the passageway turned off. From here, the light was much more obvious, golden-yellow the intensity of starlight. I could make out the shapes of rocks worn smooth, the faintest traces of honey-brown colour and tiny stalactite-fingers reaching down from the ceiling. The glow grew brighter as I went on until the passage turned a corner and widened out, revealing a sight that turned my eyes to saucers.

The chamber was large and irregular, stretching away from me about twice as far as it was across. The floor of the passageway sloped upwards on the left to merge into the wall and down on the right to form the shore of a deep, still pool that stretched to the other side of the cavern. The limpid water reflected the innumerable flecks of golden light that danced like fireflies in the air, scribing glowing zig-zags in orbits around the pillars and stalactites that stretched down from the arched ceiling.

It was beautiful, with the same timeless quality that the Grand Canyon had, or Niagara Falls that one time Mom and Dad had taken me.

What was it, though? What was the glowy stuff? Why was it here? It didn't look like any tinkertech I'd seen on TV or even in comics. Could something like this actually be natural?

I shook my head. Not the point right now. I had light, so I didn't need to worry so much about the mp3 player running out of battery. There was water, too, although I wasn't sure about actually drinking it. Who knew what kinds of stuff could be in cave-water? On the other hand….

I swallowed, feeling the bite of thirst. No. Not yet. I can manage for the moment. I don't need to risk it.

Mind (regretfully) made up I slithered all the way into the chamber and put my bag down on the side away from the water. I regretted not refilling the bottle at the ranger station at the edge of the woods. That water, at least, I could trust.

After that, I was left to twiddle my thumbs. I watched the lights for a bit, making a game with myself of watching the play of light on the water and through the air. It was almost hypnotic. I couldn't make out any single lights, really. Larger and smaller groups that gathered and broke up from moment to moment, but I just couldn't seem to follow one mote with my eyes. Eventually, I got bored with that and tore my eyes away with an effort. According to my watch, it was past 10, but I still wasn't tired at all.

I dug out White Fang and read for a while. Every now and then I yelled up the passage, but there was never any answer. I tried not to listen to the sinking feeling in my get which grew a little with every fading echo.

Finally, a yawn clawed its way out of my mouth at gone 12. I pulled my bag over and curled up in the least uncomfortable place I could find. Not long after, I had drifted off to sleep.

My dreams were a panorama of light and shadow; of suns and seas and dancing golden stars.

 **XxXxXxXxX**

Waking up was just as unpleasant as I expected it to be. My body was a tapestry of aches and pains and my throat was parched. Worst of all was my leg, which had swollen up and turned the colour of a rotten eggplant. It throbbed painfully, even more so when I experimentally put some weight on it.

I yelled up the passage again, but there was still no answer. I tried to stifle the terror which welled up in me at the thought of just being stuck down here forever, forgotten, with a bite of food and a swig of my water - distressingly little, now - but it didn't help much.

I winced as a movement shot a red-hot stab of pain up my leg. Dammit. I growled in frustration; if it wasn't for falling wrong, I might have been able to climb out myself. Instead, all I had was a leg that insisted on flaring up randomly, no food or trustworthy water and a really pretty cave.

My eyes alighted on the pool. Actually… I thought to myself as an idea struck me.

I didn't think that the water would help with my actual problem of being stuck who-knows-how-far underground, but if it was cool it might help to soothe my leg. If there was anything in the water I doubted it would do anything to me by just dangling my feet in it.

Holding my injured leg up off the ground, I manoeuvred my way over the pool and tested it with a finger. It was just this side of cold, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. Perfect. I rolled up my pant legs, pulled off my socks and swivelled around so that my feet could trail in the water. Almost immediately, the throbbing seemed to lessen a little, as did the aching from the bruises on my other leg.

Time passed slowly when nothing changed but the firefly patterns of the lights. After a little while I tried sketching the cave in my notebooks to pass the time, before finding that no, my drawing skills still hadn't improved much beyond 'cartoon' level. Giving up on that, I went onto drawing whatever came to mind. Armsmaster, Legend, Eidolon, Alexandria and a dozen other heroes soon posed dramatically on the pages. I meandered out into more random stuff, costumes, laser guns, even a spaceship or two. That lasted through to almost three o'clock, and still every time I shouted nothing came back but echoes.

I wondered how deep I was. I didn't think that the chute had been too long, but everything had happened so quickly. Maybe the authorities just hadn't bothered to send out search parties. Maybe the school had said I'd not turned up for the trip. I wouldn't put it past them to do something like that.

I gazed down into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of the bottom through the angry snarl of my reflection. Deep down I saw a glimmer of something; a flicker of faint light. My vision swam and the next thing I knew I was toppling forwards into the water.

The cold was a shock to the senses. I thrashed, trying to get back to the surface, but the water seemed heavy, as if it was trying to hold me down. A storm of golden light swirled up around me-

 _A deafening cacophony of light and a blaze of sound in colours and tones I didn't and couldn't recognise._

 ** _{ERROR - INTERFERENCE}_**

 _A whisper burned through me like a lightning strike, then another and another, until I felt as though I was a vessel for the terrible sound and fury of an infinity of ghosts_

 ** _{ENacTiNg cOunTr-r-r mSRRrrrsSs}_**

 _I saw galaxies ignite and spiral and die, candles lit at both ends. Birth and growth and age and death - blood to flesh and flesh to bone and bone to dust. Coral grew through my mind, cruel and crystalline._

 ** _Designation - UNKNOWN_**

 _I saw my dad, but his eyes were empty and bled. He held two pearls in his hands, one of silver and one of gold. I reached out and placed them in the sockets. He blinked and grinned a grin of ice and diamond._

 ** _Purpose - UNKNOWN_**

 _I was bodiless and suspended in a sea of yellow and black. A weight of awareness fell upon me, like the eye of a god. It ate at me like acid._

 ** _Contacts - UNRESPONSIVE_**

 _I was underwater and I was dissolving. Golden scarabs gnawed at my flesh and took it apart, swimming off into the blind deep. I couldn't remember my name._

 ** _Structure - UNDAMAGED_**

 _Who? What? Where? How? Why?_

 _I know nothing._

 ** _Capabilities - KNOWN_**

 _I am flayed to bones now. I have nowhere to hide, exposed to the sound and fury._

 _ **Enacting link procedures.**_

 _Something else enveloped me, wrapping around my exposed bones like a blanket, like warmth, like Mom's hug._

 _I remember her. I remember Dad. I remember myself._

 _I am I._

 _ **I am I.**_


	2. Spark - 2

I crawled up onto the hard, rocky shore, hacking and coughing the water up out of my throat and lungs. When I could do so without feeling like I was going to throw up, I looked around. The lights were gone and the cavern was washed in a thousand shades of grey. It felt much colder without that gentle radiance.

 _What was that?_ My head still ached from some of the things I half-remembered… seeing? Hearing? Feeling? I couldn't really map them to sight or sound or any other single sense. I shook my head. I'd think about that later. What mattered was what to do now. I was in soaked clothes and even if the cave was quite warm, it wasn't that warm. I could already feel the chill creeping up on me. I drew myself up into a kneeling position, hugging myself around for warmth.

 _Wait_.

How come I could do that? My leg should have been screaming at me. Now that I was thinking about it the pain was there, but it was… distant, somehow. Not 'pain' so much as a notification, almost. Like 'your leg is injured' as opposed to 'aaargh, your leg is in PAIN because it's injured'. It was still the same feeling, but it lacked all the immediacy of pain.

What the heck is going on? I thought, starting to panic a little. Had I messed up something? Had the lights screwed me up somehow? Tinkertech was meant to be unreliable and dangerous a lot of the time, after all. Look at L33t's stuff. He was infamous for his volatile inventions.

A thought thundered into my brain. _Did I trigger? Is this what triggering is like? Am I a parahuman now?_ I swivelled over onto my butt and pulled up my leg so I could get a better look at it. It looked less swollen, but that could have just been the lack of light and I couldn't make out the colours. Why couldn't the glowy-lights have just stayed, I grumbled to myself, then blinked away the afterimages as golden light suddenly flared back into existence. This time, though, the motes seemed to be flowing out from and around my skin, dancing like miniature auroras.

 _Okay. That's a thing. Another point on the 'powers' side of things._

Now that I had light, I could definitely see a difference. The discolouration had gone down to bruise-level and the swelling had vanished almost completely. _Healing?_ I thought to myself. _Well, that'll certainly come in handy._

Now that I was looking closely at myself, though, I noticed that my hands had that pale, wrinkly look you got after being underwater for a while. How long had I been in there? I looked at my watch, then looked again. According to the timepiece it had been almost three hours since the last time I had checked it, not long before I fell in.

Something serious was up. I didn't really dislike the results so far - apparent healing, glowing at will and not-drowning were all useful powers after all, if not quite Alexandria-tier - but I couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. The question of what I was going to do once I got out presented itself as well, but I pushed it away. I'd deal with it later. For now, I had to work out what I was going to do about getting out in the first place.

Tentatively, I tried rising to my feet. The lack of immediate pain was a blessing, but the feeling of warning got stronger. Probably not a good idea to try climbing up yet, then. How long would it take, though?

I closed my eyes and concentrated on what I wanted, hoping that this would be like the comics where you can make a power work by thinking hard enough about what you wanted. _How long?_

There was a sensation of acknowledgement but nothing came; no sudden realization. Disappointed, I opened my eyes to see that a small fraction of the golden lights had apparently decided to detach themselves from the rest and were marking out another one of those jaggedy patterns in front of my face. They went through the same lines over and over.

"Huh," I said to myself, speaking for the first time in a while. Was that… trying to tell me something? It didn't really look like anything in particular. An artful scribble, perhaps. After a couple of seconds the lines faded away and the gold rejoined the rest in its slow dance over my skin.

 _Weird_.

Unfortunately, it was less than helpful. Given how my leg had healed in the three or so hours I had been out, though, I hoped it wouldn't be too long. The passage up was narrow enough that I should be able to shimmy up.

All I had to do was wait.

XxXxXxXxX

I was really fucking tired of waiting.

I had read through _White Fang_ three times now, and had gotten bored enough that I had started taking notes in the margins about associations and contextual influences. I'd filled another half-dozen pages with sketches before that became dull, and for the last hour I had been playing with the lights, trying to form them into specific shapes. Mostly it was just amusing, but I did find a couple of handy things I could do like making them change colour or link shapes to my hands so I could move them around without having to concentrate, even though they still had all the solidity of smoke.

The trick wasn't to will the lights to do something or to subvocalize what I want, but rather to intend for something to happen. It was kind of like moving an arm. It required some mental gymnastics to work and quite a bit of concentration, but I thought I was starting to get the hang of it.

Now, though, I had more important things to think about. I had gotten to the point that I was confident with walking around and had tried jogging in circles as well with no real issues. I still got the not-pain, but it was more a feeling of 'you shouldn't do this for too long' than 'stop now this is a bad idea'. Also, I was sick and fucking tired of this damn cave. I was hungry, I was thirsty and I wanted to sleep on a bed as opposed to rock.

I peered up the shaft. It was maybe a metre in diameter and smooth, starting at about my shoulder height. I trailed a hand as high up as I could reach, looking for any kind of handhold. There weren't really any, but the stone wasn't too wet. If I could get myself up there, I could probably wedge myself in the middle and climb up that way.

I weighed my bag. It wasn't too heavy, but the last thing I wanted was to fall and have to wait all over again. I took out the small stuff - the pencils, the mp3 player and, after a moment's thought, _White Fang_ \- and stuffed them in my pockets. The book went in the stomach pocket of my hoodie. I took a moment to regret the lack of any kind of rope or string that I could attach to the bag to pull it up afterwards, then left it on the ground.

 _Here goes_ , I thought to myself, then bunched my legs and jumped. I managed to wedge myself in with my hands just like I had intended, pressing against the opposite walls. Already I could feel the strain in my arms growing, though, so I began to work my way up, inch by inch.

It was hard, and as I crept upwards it only got harder. The tunnelway shifted so that it was almost completely vertical, and as I looked down I could see it fading away into the dark. I shook my head and looked resolutely upwards, searching for a hint of light. The sphere of the glow that I had linked to my forehead to act as a headlamp bobbed above me like the lure of an angler fish.

The passageway began to narrow, becoming more like a diamond shape than a circular one, but it twisted a little as well so that it was closer to horizontal. Still too steep to crawl up, but the going was easier.

Finally, the passage widened again and my hand grabbed the upper lip. Exhausted, I dragged myself out into the much wider cavern which the school group had sullenly trooped through almost three days ago.

I stayed on my hands and knees, breathing hard. Slowly, the deep breaths turned into a choking laugh-sob. I was out! I had escaped that fucking hole!

Burning with the energy of triumph I sprang to my feet and yelled. I was a mess; filthy, stinking and tired to my bones, but I was going to live.

I hadn't really realized until I got out just how afraid I was, of how the notion of never getting out and no-one finding me had preyed on my mind. With it gone I could think again. I felt like singing.

I wanted to see the outside, though. I didn't want to be stuck in here any longer.

Driven by the same energy, I scrambled over the rocks and uneven footing of the outer cave. I remembered how we had got in following the young guide and I retraced my footsteps of three days prior. It seemed only moments before I was stumbling out between the two big rocks that hid the cave entrance and out into the piny woodlands.

I was on a hill, high up above a sea of darkness that rustled quietly in the night breeze. A gravelly trail stretched away beneath the evergreen eaves, down into the forest proper. We had come up that trail in the ancient Winslow minibus, rattling all the way. Through the cleft in the trees I could make out scattered spots of light, slowly becoming more and more numerous as they marched away into the distance. On the horizon I could see the glow of some town, lighting up the night sky.

I could stop here and rest, but that would probably be a bad idea. The sky was clear for now - and so many stars! - but it might rain and there was no way I was going back inside that fucking cave. Also, there were all kinds of animals and stuff which I really didn't want to deal with. Also, it was cold. It wasn't as unpleasant as it might have been in early December, but it was still _really_ damn cold. I checked my watch - 10:37 PM - then promptly stuffed my hands in my pockets and started walking.

It was a long walk. I was infinitely thankful that it wasn't raining, but by the time I arrived at the door of a small cabin with warm yellow light spilling from the windows I was mentally cursing whatever or whoever thought it would be a good idea to have winter in New Hampshire be so damned cold. My ears felt like they were going to fall off, even under my hood and my nose wasn't much better. I reabsorbed the little globe of light that had accompanied me through the woods and raised a hand to knock on the door, then stood back, shoving my hand back into its nice, warm pocket.

I waited for a long moment, watching my breath mist in the air before I heard a shuffling on the other side of the door and the sound of someone fiddling with the lock. Finally it opened, revealing a youngish-looking man with messy dark hair and a close-trimmed beard in a fluffy-looking dressing gown. He squinted at me.

"Hello?"

"Hi," I replied. "Uh, I kinda got lost in the forest and I'm really cold. Can I.. come in? Please? Or just use a phone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Uh... Right. You're gonna need to give me a bit more than that."

"What is it?" yelled a female voice from behind him.

"Some girl's at the door. Says she got lost."

"Well let her in, then! It's the middle of bloody winter, Nick!"

The man rolled his eyes but stood aside. Gratefully, I stepped inside as he closed the door behind me. "Thanks so much."

There was a sound of sheets rustling and then a woman appeared, blonde-haired and pretty with a smile as wide as the horizon. And also naked, save for the duvet she had wrapped around herself like a giant burrito.

I blushed. She must have noticed because she laughed gently. "I'm Gwen, and this is my fiancé Nicholas."

"I'm Taylor," I shivered out.

"So, Taylor, now that you've gotten us both out of bed, why were you out in the forest in the middle of the night?"

I told them what had happened, leaving out the part about the glowing lights and falling into the water. I just said that I had waited until my leg – which I implied was only bruised badly – was usable before climbing up again.

By the time I had finished, the three of us had moved to the cozy living room of the cabin. I was sat in one of the armchairs and trying desperately not to just sink into it and fall asleep. Gwen and Thomas had taken up residence on the couch.

"And then I got here," I finished. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight, and the sudden realization of the time dragged a yawn from my throat.

"Well, that's... quite a story," began the dark-haired man. He had sort of snuggled up next to Gwen while I was telling the story and was half-concealed under the duvet. "Uh, if you want any food or drink or whatever, feel free."

"You can sleep on the couch if you want," broke in his fiancé. "We should... probably be getting to bed. Do you want to use the phone?"

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you so much."

"It's nothing," replied the blonde-haired girl.

I heard the two shuffling off out of the room, along with some muted muttering as I went over to the landline and picked it up. I paused, uncertain, before punching in my house number. If Dad didn't wake up I'd call again in the morning. If he did, I was sure that he'd be happier knowing now that I was OK rather than worrying through another night. And he would be worrying. If I knew him at all he would have spent all the time since I didn't come back with the Winslow group wearing holes in the floor and calling up anyone and everyone who might know something.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before it was picked up.

"Hello, Hebert household," came Dad's voice. He sounded utterly exhausted.

"It's me, Dad. It's Taylor."

"Taylor! Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? The school said you got lost in the woods and they couldn't find you." The exhaustion was gone. He sounded almost ecstatic, possessed by some great energy.

"I'm fine, Dad, I'm fine. I'm at a little cabin in the woods. I fell down a hole in one of the caves were looking at and it took me a while to get out, that's all. I got out a couple of hours ago and these two people are letting me stay the night on the sofa. They let me use their phone. I'll go down to a ranger station or something in the morning and I'll get a taxi or something back to the Bay."

"No you won't young lady," he said in his 'this is what will happen' voice. "You go down to the police station nearest to you tomorrow and I'll drive up and fetch you."

"But-"

"Ap ap ap! No, I'm coming to get you. I want to see you again as soon as I can. I thought- I thought I had lost you, little owl."

I felt something warm ignite inside me, even as a choking feeling grew in my throat.

"I know, dad. But I'm fine now. I'll – I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," he replied, "I love you, Taylor."

"Love you too, Dad."

The phone hung up.

That... was exhausting. Somehow that short exchange with my Dad felt more tiring than the whole walk from the cave mouth to here.

A thought occurred. I had powers now, albeit not very impressive ones so far. Should I tell Dad? What would he think?

Now that I was out of the cave, I had time to really consider what I was going to do and what I wanted.

Mechanically, I pulled the woolly blankets off of the backs of the armchairs and pulled them over myself as I lay down on the sofa, propping my head up on a pillow.

I didn't really know what I could do, so finding that out was priority one. Once I knew that I could work out the rest.

My last thought before sleep swept over me was a vague gladness that my powers weren't something horrible or evil, or even particularly bad-looking. Given my luck, I would have almost expect something like blood control or having to eat people. With these powers, maybe I could make a difference, maybe I could get out of Winslow and away from the Trio. The Wards went to Arcadia, right?

Maybe, just maybe, there wouldn't be another shoe this time.

XxXxXxXxX

 **A/N:** To the members of the Guest Collective - _please_ get yourselves accounts! You say interesting things which I want to reply to and I _can't._ Why must you torment me so?


	3. Spark - 3

_Colour and form blurred and shifted around me geometrically, forming endless self-adapting vistas that almost hurt to look at. Technicolour ziggurats bloomed like flowers from both sides of a city-sized mobius strip, sending prismatic flashes of soundless lighting blazing down to dance on the fractal crowns of sky-piercing towers._

 _The other senses were just as overwhelmed. A million scents and tastes I had no name for filled my nose and mouth while my skin seemed to burn and freeze all at once._

 _Worst of all was the sound._

 _It surrounded me, enveloped me and resonated in my blood and bones. There was no escaping from it, and it was as loud as worlds colliding. It was as if every person in the world was shouting and screaming and crying at once, all howling of_ _ **Confusion**_ _and_ _ **Uncertainty**_ _._

 _I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out the madness._

 _It did nothing._

XxXxX

I woke to the sound of something sizzling, accompanied by my grumbling stomach. I groaned, sitting up and wringing out the crick in my neck as I sniffed.

 _Bacon._ There was bacon in the house.

I was suddenly uncomfortably conscious that I hadn't eaten in about three days. I really hadn't noticed after climbing out of the cave. Another power-thing, or had I just been too distracted? I quickly decided that it really didn't matter, as I got a whiff of myself.

Ever spent three days in a cave without any real facilities for washing beyond a very suspect pool of water? You don't come out of it smelling like a rose, let me tell you.

Nicholas must have heard me shifting, because he popped a head around the corner of the living room.

"You're awake. You said last night that you hadn't had any food, so I got plenty out. You're not vegetarian, are you?"

"I'm not," I affirmed, then paused before continuing. "Um, do you have a shower or something I could use?"

"Mhmm. The door over there," he said, indicating the one he meant. "Careful with the water, though. The hot water really _is_ hot. I burned myself a couple times on it."

I thanked him, then slunk off to the bathroom. Twenty minutes and an utterly _luxurious_ shower later - I would never take hot water for granted again, even if I felt a little guilty for spending so long in there and using so much of their water - I stepped out again to find that the other - _Gwen?_ \- was awake and apparently in a good mood, given the way she was sticking her tongue down Nicholas' throat.

I felt the heat of a blush suffuse my face and looked away, quietly closing the door behind me. Not quietly enough, apparently, because there was a faint wet sound and then Gwen called out to me. "Nice shower?"

"Y-yeah," I replied, still feeling the blush. "I can't tell you how good it was after the cave."

"Well, you deserve it after that shit. You called your dad last night, didn't you? Did you arrange anything with him?"

"Uh, he wanted to drive up to pick me up, if that's OK?"

"Sure. Only...uh," Gwen paused, as if unsure of how to put what she wanted to say. "Does he know where we are?"

And there was the blush again. Dammit, why couldn't I think of these things?

Gwen chuckled softly. "Nevermind. Do you want to call him again, or do you want to do that after breakfast? Nick'll cook." She leaned in conspiratorially, nevermind that she was still halfway across the room and loudly stage-whispered with a grin. "It's why I agreed to marry him."

"Why, I am shocked, _shocked_ I tell you!" shot back the bearded man, holding a hand to his mouth in a posture of exaggerated surprise. "And here I thought you liked me for my looks and scintillating personality."

"Well, they're nice bonuses," she replied, waving a hand in a don't-sweat-the-small-stuff gesture.

The breakfast lived up to the hype, and I was pretty sure that that was only partly because I was ravenously hungry. After I'd finished the third bacon butty, Nicholas' passed me my glasses - I hadn't even realized I wasn't wearing them. Was this something else that my powers had done? An extension of the healing? I wasn't sure, and that made me a little uncomfortable. Just the idea that there was something working in my body without me knowing was an unpleasant one.

Noticing Nicholas' questioning look, I smiled and said something about the food being so good I hadn't noticed. He smiled, but there was something in his eyes that made me think he hadn't bought it.

I called up Dad and gave him the address, then spent the couple of hours before he arrived huddled on the sofa watching television. A ranger with a paramedic in tow turned up at one point to see how I was doing - the Lawles had apparently called the police to say that I'd been found. Apparently there had been a search going on, but it had been concentrated out in the forest rather than in the caves. The paramedic gave me a once-over and asked whether I had experienced any dizziness, headaches, nausea or problems with eating. She had seemed puzzled when I'd reported that no, I hadn't really and almost looked as if she wanted to say something else, but stopped herself. In the end she just advised me to eat and drink little and often, and especially whenever I got hungry, and to take it easy on physical activity for a while.

It was past lunchtime when Dad arrived, pulling up in a spray of gravel. I was out the door almost before he had stopped and dived into his arms. I hadn't really realized just how much I'd missed him until he was there.

"I'm here, Little Owl," he whispered. Then he coughed. "I-if I could breathe, though?"

"Sorry!"

XxXxX

Returning home felt surreal. When I went up to my room, everything was just as I had left it. The bed was still unmade, the wardrobe still open and the bookshelf still pristine. I slotted _White Fang_ back into its place with a feeling of finality.

I was back.

Dad was downstairs, calling up the school. All the way back he had been quietly furious at them, and I could only imagine what he'd been doing to the school administration while I was lost. For all that he was a pleasant man generally, he could make someone verbally skin _themselves_ if he really wanted to. I grinned at the thought of Principal Blackwell facing Dad in full flood. I hoped he'd get something off of the school for leaving me there, but I didn't hold out too much hope. However, he'd declared in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't be returning. It was only a couple of weeks until the Christmas holidays anyway. The early break would give me both a much-needed escape from Emma and time to experiment, research and plan what I was going to do.

Before I did anything, though, I wanted to know what I _could_ do. So far I had healing, glowing, dulled pain and possibly enhanced strength, as looking back I doubted that I would have been able to climb out of the cave as I was. I had ideas for how I could test out the healing and strength, but the glowing kind of puzzled me. I'd never heard of a cape whose power didn't who just _glowed_.

Purity from the Empire 88 (Brockton Bay's very own gang of neo-nazis) glowed when she used her powers - hell, Legend did - but both of them could shoot lasers. I was pretty sure that I couldn't, although I'd definitely put that on the list to test at some point when I was surrounded by fewer things that I'd care about if they exploded or got set on fire.

I indulged for a moment in a fantasy of setting Emma's hair on fire with laser eyes, then shook my head. I couldn't go that way. That was the kind of thing a villain would do, and I'd be damned if I let her do that to me.

I pulled pulled out my drawer and took out a notebook and a pencil before plopping down on the bed.

 _First things first_ , I thought to myself, pushing on the mental switch that called the glow up and out of my skin. I lifted up an arm and squinted at it, watching the play of the light and trying to imagine what kinds of things it might do. Maybe I could make the little particles… link together, somehow? Form objects and forcefields and stuff with them? How to do it, though?

With nothing better to try, I _intended_ for the lights to form a ball between my hands. They responded quickly, coursing up and around my wrists to create a rough, shifting orb. Mentally anchoring it to one hand, I poked a finger from the other against it. It shifted like smoke around the digit.

I frowned and concentrated again, picturing the sphere freezing like water into ice. It changed, extending out into a giant golden snowflake but when I poked it again it just faded away around my fingertip. I sighed. _No forcefields for me._

I let the snowflake disperse back into glowing streams as I pulled my notepad over and scribbled down 'forcefields' before crossing it out. I wrote down 'lasers?' as well, then chewed on the end of the pencil, trying to think of other ideas. Was this how all powers worked? Did Legend have to fumble around in the dark to work out what he could do?

I could have slapped myself. _Look it up, Taylor! Computers are a thing!_

I grabbed up the notepad and pulled the light back in before opening the door and trotting downstairs to Dad's 'study', the only room in the house with a computer.

It was an ancient, clunky white thing and the screen was almost as deep as it was wide, but it had an internet connection. I pressed the power button and waited for the two or three minutes for it to whirr into life. Once It was going, I fired up the browser and ran a search on becoming a cape, then (after a number of scams, a forum war and a lot of not-very-useful waffling from the PRT website) for trigger events. That was more useful, and it confirmed my suspicions that no, people didn't know exactly what their powers did right away. However, the information also seemed to imply that parahumans should have some kind of instinctual idea of heir powers, which I didn't really seem to.

Next I ran a search for types of powers. In this the PRT was rather more helpful, having a set of twelve nicely-defined categories into which they slotted any given power. By their measure I'd probably be a Brute and a Shaker, but only very minor on both. I tried not to feel disappointed, but it was difficult. Some nazi got the power to shoot laser beams and fly and I could heal a bit and glow. How was that fair?

I sighed heavily and typed 'north america tinkers' into the search field. With any luck I'd be able to find whoever had made the glow and left it in the cave. I'd come up with a theory that the glow was meant to do something or other that wasn't very friendly to humans, and that I'd got powers that let me survive it, somehow incorporating it into me. I didn't really have any proof, but it was the best guess I had.

As it turned out, there was an entire website dedicated to listing as many parahumans as possible, along with as much as could be found about them in general; their powers, areas of operation and status with regards to the law. The uncreatively named Parahumans Wiki used the same system as the PRT, so I had a nice, clean list of a couple hundred capes to look at.

Half an hour later, I'd found no-one that really fit. The closest two still alive were probably Armsmaster - there was plenty of speculation on what his 'tinker specialty' was but the vast majority leaned towards either efficiency or miniaturisation, with the number of gadgets he had in his armour and halberd - and Dragon, whose thing was thought to be reverse-engineering the work of other tinkers. There had been a tinker down in Miami during the late nineties and early 2000s named Doc Wonder who had once dissolved a couple of blocks in a nanomachine soup, but he'd died as a result of the same nanoplague and the machines had been eradicated by Scion. All of this left me with a fat lot of nothing to go on.

Was it possible that the lights had been some kind of natural phenomenon? It was probably more likely that the creator had just been some kind of unknown tinker, I decided, but in that case I probably wouldn't ever find them anyway.

I growled in frustration and massaged my face with my hands. Outside, I could hear Dad on the phone, talking in the dangerously level tone that I knew he used when he was inches away from exploding at someone. I looked back at the screen. I'd probably go back on later, or maybe go out and use the library computers tomorrow, but I was done for the moment. I shut the desktop down and spun the office chair around before going back upstairs.

Yes, I'd drop by the library tomorrow and try to find somewhere where I could test out what I could do without being seen. After that… well, I'd come up with something.


	4. Spark - 4

It was about three in the afternoon when Dad called up the stairs for me to come down. I flipped my notebook closed and slid it under the bed, then descended the stairs. Dad was waiting at the bottom, looking tired. He had a notebook of his own in his hands.

"I talked to the school. Do you wanna come into the lounge and we can talk it over?"

"Sure," I replied, a little apprehensive. Would Blackwell have found a way to wriggle out of this, just as she had out of responsibility for the last four terms? I followed Dad and sank down onto the sofa, opposite his ratty armchair. He glanced down at his notes before beginning.

"Okay, so I called Alan and had him look over a copy of the school's charter, and according to that and the permission form I signed before you went, they're responsible for whatever happens on a school trip. We can nail them with negligent endangerment of a child if we take them to court, and Alan said that we might be able to get something on how they thought you were in the forest with respect to misleading the authorities."

"He said that we were almost certain to win the case if we press charges, and that we could probably expect to get a term of interment for the teacher who was on the trip. He said we could probably take the school to court as well, but Alan said they'd be likely to just fire the guy and try to wash their hands of the issue. They're offering a settlement in exchange for us not pressing charges, though. The media's been running the story, so they can't just sweep it away."

As Dad had been speaking I could see the anger in him, his frustration that he wouldn't be able bring the school to justice. It oozed from him like oily fog choking the air, furious but leashed. I sympathised. The anger with them burned in my chest, but it had dimmed to a kind of cold, tired hate by now. They hadn't helped me for the better part of a year and a half; why would I expect better now? I couldn't even really blame the Trio for this. I was the one who had hung back and slipped.

"How much is the settlement?" I asked.

"They're offering $12,000 at the moment, but Alan thinks that a good lawyer might be able to talk it up a little. He's offered to put in a word with the head of his firm for us."

I didn't know much about law in general, but that sounded like a lot of money, at least for a family like ours.

Dad looked up from his notebook. "Taylor, I don't want you to go back there. I was thinking of taking the settlement and using it to pay for homeschooling, at least for a while. Then maybe we can apply to Arcadia or something. I'm not going to let you go back to that school, though."

His jaw was set, determined, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to shift him on this. I didn't want to. Getting out of Winslow was a dream come true, and even if it wasn't Arcadia - I didn't have the grades for that anymore thanks to Emma's torment of me.

I smiled for the first time in a long while. So what if Winslow would get out of it? I hated this. I wanted retribution and, yes, there was a part of me that just wanted to see the school hurt, but doing the best for Dad and I was what I had to keep in mind. And anyway, I got what I wanted. I wouldn't have to deal with the Trio anymore. I could forget Emma, move on, let her fade away and disappear.

 _Maybe one day,_ I thought with a flare of spite, _When I'm a famous hero I'll come back and show her what I've become in spite of her._ But that would be in the future, and I needed to get there first.

"That sounds good," I replied. "I… don't think I could really trust them-" _after they let the trio walk all over me for so long_ "-after they left me there."

Dad visibly relaxed. Maybe he'd been expecting me to fight him on leaving the school. "What about Emma?" he asked. "She was why you wanted to go to Winslow in the first place, right? She hasn't been over for a while. Have you drifted apart?"

That stung. It reminded me that Dad didn't have any idea of what my former friend had done to me. The reminder that we had once been friends was painful. I didn't really like to remember that once upon a time Emma and I had almost spent more time at each other's houses than at our own.

For a moment I contemplated telling Dad about what had happened, then decided against it. We needed Alan on our side for this. I'd keep the bullying to myself. Soon it wouldn't matter, anyway.

"Kinda, yeah. We just don't really see each other that much. Emma's found some new friends,"I said, valiantly keeping a tremor out of my voice.

"That's too bad. I was friends with Alan back in school and that lasted all the way through 'till now. Well, I guess you're always going to grow apart from some people. Just... just remember to make new friends, okay, Little Owl?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah."

The conversation after that trailed away until it was time for dinner. Dad made pasta with cheese sauce which we ate slowly before vanishing, him into the kitchen and me upstairs again. It wasn't long before I decided it was time to turn in.

XxXxX

 _I was back in the world of crystal and light. Sections moved and revolved in and out of existence and focus, vanishing down dimensions I couldn't see and reappearing from directions English lacked the words to describe. The sounds and sights were still intense enough to almost hurt, but there was a placidity, a calmness that wasn't here before. It was as if some great crisis had passed, leaving the place once more orderly and oddly mechanical. For all that, though, there was something about the place that made me think it was somehow alive; a degree of organic motion that belied the crystalline appearance. It felt almost as if I was standing in the innards of some vast beast, watching its organs and systems go about their work._

 _Were recurring dreams a power thing? Or was it just a fluke?_

 ** _Directive: Analysis._**

 _The wordless demand sank like needles into my mind. Something was demanding that I submit to observation and analysis. Fuck that._

 _"No!"_

 _A ripple of wispy gold pulsed over the crystalline landscape. Where it passed, the constant movement and shifting seemed to halt for a moment._

 ** _Directive: Analysis._**

 _The instruction was more forceful this time, almost a physical pressure, but it washed over me like water. I could resist it with an effort of will._

 _"No." I replied firmly. "I'm not going to be your lab rat."_

 ** _Confusion. Directive._**

 _"I'm not going to just do what you say because you tell me to. Explain, or I'll - I'll just ignore you." I felt a bit silly just talking at the air, but then this was only a dream._

 ** _Query: Authority._**

 _It wanted to know what right I had to refuse its command. I bristled. "I can say 'no' because you've no right over me."_

 ** _Identification: Supreme Director/Coordinator/Administrator. Assertion: Rank._**

 _"I don't know who you are and I don't see why I should listen to you. Give me something in return and I might consider it. Maybe."_

 _There was a long pause. It stretched into minutes, and there was a feeling of deep and profound thought, as if the other was considering anew something it had always taken for granted. Finally, it seemed to come to a decision._

 ** _Directive: Symbiosis._**

 _It felt grudging, unwilling and hesitant. I couldn't really think of any particular answer to give it. I'd never really had a lucid dream before, but was it normal for it to be like this? "Can you tell me anything about my power?" I said eventually. Maybe it was some kind of subconscious thing. Online it had said that capes usually instinctively knew how to use their powers, so maybe my power-instincts got buried a little deeper?_

 ** _Affirmation. Information: Findings._**

 _Concepts, ideas and theories poured through my mind. Subatomic-scale computing substrates, conceptual programming, exotic non-energy non-matter forms of existence. I could barely parse the least fraction._

 ** _Simplification: Purpose: Enhancement/Computation/Matter-Energy Manipulation. Suggestion: Synergise. Query: Sufficiency._**

 _"That's... fine," I replied, still trying to run through the deluge of information. I was going to ask why it wanted to observe me, but there was an almost tangible feeling of dismissal and the kaleidoscopic world vanished in the blink of an eye._

I woke, blinking away the shadows of un-lights and shaking my head to clear the taste-sounds of the dream. I could feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind my eyes, but it faded away almost as soon as I noticed.

Where did that dream come from? I thought groggily to myself, rubbing my face with the palms of my hands in an effort to wake myself up. It was getting into the colder part of winter, so I really, really didn't want to come out from underneath my duvet. We couldn't really afford to put the heating on in the morning, so in the winter I usually spent as long as possible in bed and wrapped up warm as soon as I got out. I was pretty sure that I could set records for the quickest dressing in the city.

I mulled over the weird dream as I poured myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. The details were already vanishing into the haze of sleep, but I could remember some of what the other had said. Enhancement, computation and matter-energy manipulation. The last part sounded really powerful, and if it wasn't just a dream I guessed that I could count the healing and strength as 'enhancements'. I didn't really know what to make of the 'computation' part, though.

I finished the bowl and rinsed it out, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Maybe… maybe it worked as some kind of mental enhancement as well? I hadn't really noticed anything different about how I was thinking or what I could do mentally, but then again would I have? It wasn't like I'd been doing that much outside of trying to work out my powers.

 _Which reminds me. I still haven't tested the healing._

I glanced at the kitchen clock, then out the window. I must have slept in, because it was 9 o'clock and the car was gone. Dad must have gone to work decided not to wake me up. I had the house to myself for the rest of the day.

I grabbed the good knife from the knife drawer and sat down at the table, pulling a few of the paper towels from their roll and spreading them out. The last things I wanted to have to explain to Dad were bloodstains on the table. I had the knife ready over my thumb when what I was about to do struck me. I'd cut myself on this knife before by accident when I was younger. It was the one Mom used to use for filleting fish and Dad had kept it sharp ever since. I could remember how it had hurt, and now I was about to do the same on purpose.

 _Is it part of the 'dulled pain' thing? Do I not consider pain so much already?_

I had a reason, though, and it was a good one. If I didn't know what my powers were and could do, I couldn't plan out what I was going to do. Steeling myself, I ran the blade gently over the pad of my thumb. When I took it away, there wasn't even a mark, and I knew for a fact that that knife only took a touch to cut.

 _Okay, looks like we can add 'enhanced durability' to the list._

I tried again, pressing down this time. I felt a slight sting, but the knife didn't go in. This time when I lifted it away there was still no blood, but a tiny flap of pale skin had been pulled up. When I nudged it aside there was something else as well, a greyish membrane, just below the skin. There wasn't any mark on it. I tried poking at it with the tip of the knife, but it resisted. It was like someone had inserted a layer of kevlar underneath my skin. I pressed harder, putting the weight of my arm behind the blade and it sank in. A lance of not-pain blazed up my arm and I quickly pulled the knife out, hissing.

A ruby bead of blood welled up where the knife had been but within seconds it had dulled to a scab, sealing off the wound. As I watched, I could see the ends of the cut sealing up ever-so-slowly. It was nothing to the regeneration Lung was meant to be capable of, but it was certainly going to come in useful.

I cleaned the knife off and put it away, dumping the paper towels into the bin. I didn't really want to go any farther down that particular route. I could heal, but I didn't want to risk chopping off a finger or something. That weird membrane thing, though, had me curious. Did other tough capes work like this? Did they have physical things which accounted for their toughness? I couldn't remember anything about Alexandria's powers doing something like that, but then again it was quite rare to get solid information on powers. It made sense, I supposed. You wouldn't want villains knowing all your weaknesses. Nor, I mused as I slipped into the study again, would villains want heroes knowing theirs.

I clicked the computer on and, while I was waiting for it to load, brought out the glow on a whim. I played with it a bit, moulding it into different shapes. The computer binged out the Windows startup jingle and suddenly I was hit with an idea. The glow didn't seem to do a great deal on its own, but I hadn't tried adding it to anything else, had I?

I formed a rough ball in my hand and reached down to the off-white tower block underneath the desk, pushing the golden motes through the little vents at the front and into the workings. For a long moment, nothing happened. I started to doubt myself. This was so completely dumb; I was literally rubbing my power on things and seeing what happened.

There was a buzz, a feeling of connection and as the screen flickered my world exploded in light and information.


	5. Spark - 5

The initial rush of linkage faded quickly, but it left behind a crystal clarity of information. I _knew_ , in a that I had never known before. I understood perfectly what the computer was doing as it flashed through its bootup sequence in the blink of an eye.

 _Whoa._

Experimentally, I shifted the cursor over towards the internet browser. The slightest twitch of the mouse had it open and ready faster than I could track. That wasn't normal. The computer usually took ages to load, and even then opening the browser usually took half a minute or so. Had my glow improved the computer somehow? The moment the thought formed, the answer presented itself. Yes, yes it had. The specs which presented themselves to me were so far beyond anything reasonable it wasn't even funny. I called up the specs of Titan - I remembered Mrs. Knott mentioning it once as the most advanced non-Tinkertech supercomputer - and compared them.

Mine were better. Significantly.

I sat back in the squeaky office chair and contemplated that. The Hebert house computer, an ancient clunky thing dating back years, was currently souped up to the point that it was effectively tinkertech. Was this my real power, then? Improving computers and connecting to them? I was at once elated and somehow unimpressed. On one hand, it still wasn't an Alexandria-tier power. I wouldn't be going around and beating up Nazis with it. On the other, everyone banked online nowadays. If I learned how, maybe I could take down the gangs from that angle; steal their money right from under them.

I smiled as I thought about that. The image of Lung going to go buy something only to find that his account was empty was an appealing one, albeit not quite so much as the image of me planting my fist in his face and driving him through a wall or two.

I'd need to learn how to do that, though. I looked down at the computer. I'd need a different computer, as well. There was no way I could risk anything I did being traced back here.

Which begged the question: how did I disconnect? Was my enhancement permanent? Could I only do one computer at a time, or many? For that matter, I hadn't tried adding it to anything other than computers, so could I do something like add it to a gun to improve it somehow?

 _Too many questions. Time to prioritise. Can I disconnect?_

As it turned out, that was easy. It was just a matter of pulling the glow out of the computer and back into me, and the moment it was withdrawn the ancient tower block wheezed back to its normal, clunky self. Reconnecting was just as easy. The glow seemed to know what to do once I added it, like it was taking the computer as an indication of the kind of thing I wanted it to do, then taking it further. It made me wonder what would happen if I added the glow to a weapon or armour. Would I get a super-sharp edge? Super-hardness? Something else?

I jumped out of the chair and ran out into the kitchen, grabbing the knife again. I pulled out the glow and tried to force it to bond to the blade. The light rippled along the knife's length, hovering around it, but it didn't sink in or do anything that made me think it was actually making a difference. When I ran it across my finger like before it was just the same. I withdrew the glow and sighed. Maybe it only worked on technology? What was the line, though? Would it work on something with only moving parts, or was it solely electronic technology? Or was it really just computers?

I chewed on my lip as I drew the glow back in. What to do now? My eyes fell on the open door of the study. I couldn't use the home computer like that again. If someone was keeping an eye on data-traffic - something I found I understood the concept of much better now than before I'd made the connect; it was like the difference between someone explaining what 'blue' was like and seeing it for yourself - then a suburban neighbourhood suddenly having data-traffic you'd expect from NASA before the Simurgh killed the space programs would be pretty goddamn obvious. I was pretty sure it would be possible to set up some kind of workaround that made it look like I was somewhere else, but it would be best if I used a different computer altogether, and I'd need to know more about programming in general.

I still had a little over $200 in savings. Enough to buy a reasonable laptop, and with my powers I could make it a thousand times better. Everything started to click into place. Was I actually some kind of computer-tinker? Maybe. That would be cool. Maybe I could sell my programming abilities as well, help Dad out with the bills. Maybe one day I'd even be able to work with Armsmaster or Dragon!

I was almost jumping with joy, but I had to do this right. _Calm down, Taylor._ _Plan first, fantasize about heroism later_.

First, buy a laptop. There was a tech store on the Boardwalk that sold them, and the lower end of their range was within my budget. Second, finding information on programming. I could probably look that up online, and if I couldn't I was sure I could do enough as I was to make some money to do so. If worse came to worst I could do odd jobs around the neighbourhood. After that, I'd play it by ear.

I grabbed my purse from under my bed, wrapped up in a coat and set out, only pausing to scribble a note saying that I'd gone to the library, just in case Dad came back for whatever reason.

The bus ride into town was as uncomfortable as normal, although it was less crowded than usual. I got a few disapproving looks from an old lady huddled at the back. She probably thought I ought to be in school.

I jumped off at a bus stop near the end of the Boardwalk and made a beeline for the tech store, sandwiched between a cafe and a boarded-up place that I remembered as a toy store from when I was smaller and overshadowing both. I pushed open the door.

There were four aisles, separated by head-height partitions. Apart from the bored-looking cashier, a long-haired teen obliviously listening to something on a pair of headphones, the place was abandoned. I was a little surprised at that, considering that it was coming up to Christmas, but then I realised that it was still midmorning. Anyone who wanted to buy gifts would probably turn up later.

It didn't take long to find the laptop section. Most of the computers were out of my price range, but the lower end was within it. I found the cheapest one and picked up the empty box to take it to the checkout. I was just handing over the money when the door slammed open behind me. The cashier went white. I glanced back and saw a man in a dark balaclava raise a pistol in my direction.

An ice-cold clarity washed over me. It was as if the whole world was edged in glass.

"Get down on the fucking floor," he said. I complied, folding my hands behind my head and going down into a kneel. He brought the gun up towards the cashier. "Open the machine and gimme the cash."

I could hear the cashier fumbling above me, then the sound of the till opening.

"Hurry the fuck up!"

Coins clattered. There was a muffled curse. I could hear footsteps behind me. He'd have to come almost right up to me to grab the money. He had been holding the gun in his right hand.

He'd made a mistake in not making me move away. He probably thought there was nothing I could do to him, skinny and a girl as I was. I just needed to bide my time, and when he got close I'd jump up, knock the gun away and then it would be him against my power-enhanced strength. He wasn't all that big. I regretted not testing it properly earlier, but if I was going to be a hero there was no way I could just let this slide. Sure, I wasn't an Alexandria-type cape, but I was sure I could take this guy.

Distantly, I noted that I should probably be more afraid than I was, and certainly shouldn't be thinking this clearly. Maybe it was like the pain-numbing?

"He-here," came the voice of the cashier above me. More footsteps. I guessed that the gunman was about three metres away. Now two. Now one.

 _Now._

Everything happened at once. I gathered my legs beneath me with a little hop and then surged upwards, spinning as I did so so that I was facing him. As I did so, I brought my hand up under his so that the pistol pointed upwards into the wall. It went off almost next to my ear, but although the sound was loud it wasn't deafening, nor did it disorient me. There was a strangled scream, almost a squeak, behind me.

As one hand lifted the pistol upwards, I took advantage of my opponent's momentary distraction to land a good, solid gut-punch. I missed the kidney I was aiming for, but he wheezed, which bought me another precious moment of distraction.

I clamped my hand down on the wrist of his gun-arm, digging my fingers into the underside. His hand spasmodically opened, dropping the gun.

"Get the fuck off me, bitch!"

The other guy was taller than me, but not by much. He was heavier, though, and he used that, pushing down on me. His free arm grabbed mine, twisting it painfully. I couldn't let him get to the gun. I pivoted to the left, going with his push. He overbalanced and I managed to turn so that when we fell he was on the bottom.

My arm was free again, and I brought it around in a open-palmed slap to the ganger's temple as hard as I could, hoping to stun him. It stung me, but by the way his eyes suddenly went unfocused the blow had done its job. I rolled off and grabbed up the gun from the ground, scrambling back and pointing it at him.

"Call the cops!" I yelled to the cashier. He poked his head above the counter and his eyes bugged out. It would have been almost comical, if it weren't for the situation. I'd never used a gun before. I vaguely remembered something from a TV show about holding pistols with both hands and did so, keeping it trained on the would-be thief as he climbed up, slowly and cautiously with his hands in the air. I made sure to keep well out of reach.

"Move," I said "Away from the counter. Now."

I stepped back. He followed, slowly. "Stop. Move up the aisle, keep your hands on your head. Look away from me. Stop halfway up. Have you called them yet?" I addressed the last to the cashier as the ganger complied.

"Y-yeah. How'd you do that? Are you a cape or something?"

A frisson of fear ran down my spine. Had I outed myself already? Had I been too good? "No, I just to self-defense."

"It was _badass_ ," he said, and I could _hear_ the stars in his eyes. It was kind of disturbing, actually. The guy had to be older than me. "It was like something off the TV. I'm Adrian, by the way. Adrian Santos. Thank you _so_ much. I was terrified."

"Y-you're welcome," I said, not quite sure how to deal with all this. I could feel the ice-cold clarity I had had in the fight slipping away. I had to fight to keep my gun-arm from shaking. "I'm Taylor."

It took another five minutes for the police to arrive, and they took the ganger into custody quickly and efficiently. Apparently he was a suspected member of the Empire and this moved him from 'someone to keep an eye on' to 'someone we can nail'. An officer who introduced himself as Roger Bailey took the pistol as evidence and told me that what I'd done was 'commendable', and that he wished there were more people like me who were willing to step up to the plate in times of danger. He recognised me, as well. Apparently he had family up north and they'd mentioned the news bulletin about me going missing. "You should learn to keep out of trouble, young lady," he said with a smile. "First you fall down a cave and next you're stopping a robbery. Keep going like this and you'll be fighting Lung in a couple of weeks."

I smiled back. "I'll try," I assured him.

I ended up giving a statement and finally got around to doing what I came here to do, buying the laptop off of Adrian, who was _still_ looking at me like I was Alexandria herself.


	6. Spark - 6

The laptop was a sturdy thing, with a case made of grey plastic. I unwrapped the charging cable that came with it and plugged it into the wall and skimmed over the startup instructions. I'd never had a new computer before, and I didn't want to screw it up. Carefully, I went through the stages the manual described, letting the operating system load up and then setting up my account. I didn't add the glow until the laptop had popped up a dialog box saying that the initial setup was complete. I didn't want to risk screwing it up. I didn't have the money for another laptop.

Once I was sure that the computer had settled, I called up the glow and sent it streaming into the circuits. There was the same rush of connection as before, but this computer felt… different to the one in the study. Smaller, but… cleaner. Younger. It made sense, I guessed. The home computer had had years of stuff piling up, whereas this one was a clean slate.

The first thing I did was set up a password, and find a free antivirus and firewall which didn't have too many bad reviews. Once the programs were downloaded, I took a peek through the code - it was easy to find, thanks to the glow feeding me any information I asked for - and what I saw disgusted me. They were like swiss cheese! How did they get off marketing these pieces of garbage? I knew next to nothing about programming, but with my power doing the interpretation I could see the holes. I could probably get through this in seconds if I wanted to.

I grimaced. I couldn't leave what would soon be a vital piece of equipment this vulnerable. I didn't know how to patch up the holes, though. It was the difference between seeing that a wall had been knocked down and how to lay new bricks.

So I hit the internet.

Mr. Gladly had spent a lesson a while back talking about the impact of contact with Earth discussion had been as sparse and fantastically unproductive as ever, but one thing that had come out of it was the fact that on Aleph the internet was much more developed and used for far more things than here on Earth Bet. Bet's internet wasn't nearly as all-encompassing as Aleph's, and in particular it tended to be used less for leisure and entertainment and more for professional or academic reasons or discussion. An upshot of this was that it was actually quite easy to get my hands on a set of PDFs on programming for free off of a university website.

Their size was intimidating at first, but as I sat back on my bed and started reading through them, the concepts they were explaining just seemed to click. It wasn't that I just absorbed the knowledge somehow, but rather that they just made sense. I could see what the writer was talking about and understood, and with understanding what would have been a dry and difficult read became far easier and actually quite engaging. By the time I'd got halfway through, I was beginning to see some nice ways I could apply what I was reading about. By the time I was finished I was sketching out mindmaps in the air.

I finished, then glanced up at the spidery scrawls floating above my bed. I hadn't been able to do that before. I hadn't really been able to do more than make vague shapes. On the other hand, it wasn't like I had really tried to write with the glow either. I chewed my lip, calling out a little ball of the glow and trying to form it into words. It did so easily, spelling out Hello World in my own handwriting.

My own… handwriting.

Could that be it? The rest of the mindmap was the same. If it wasn't for it being floating and written in the glow, I could have scribbled it down with a pen. Maybe it took its cues from me, like it took them from the computer when it was linked to it, which raised a question. The glow could change colour, and it could evidently do small details….

I opened up a second window in my PDF reader, then moved the window outside of the screen, imagining it shifting onto another screen next to the laptop's. Motes of light flowed out of my hands and gathered into a flat plane. It shimmered with colour, then the PDF slipped onto it.

I held out a hand and mentally linked the 'screen' to it, then moved it. The screen followed the motion. I grinned. This was cool.

In another minute I had half a dozen documents open, and another set to scribble down ideas. Links and connections just came. It was actually kinda fun, and when I heard the car pulling into the drive it came as a shock that the afternoon had vanished so quickly. Pages upon pages of ideas, concepts and partially-completed programs hung in the air like a frozen whirlwind.

Quickly, I saved them to the laptop and disconnected it from the internet. I left some of the glow in it, though. I wanted to see how long the enhancement would last. I stowed the computer under my bed and went out to the top of the stairs to say hello to Dad. He looked exhausted, and when I greeted him he didn't have much to say beyond an anaemic 'Hi, Taylor, how was your day?'I left him to brew his coffee and went back upstairs.

XxXxX

It was three weeks until Christmas came but to me, they felt like months. There was just so much going on and that I had to do.

Firstly, there were my studies. With my powers' help I was a better student than I had ever been, but there was something to be said for having an actual teacher there in front of you. Even teachers as shitty as those at Winslow had something that instructional videos and online textbooks and papers didn't.

Something I'd found as I diversified from studying programming into other subjects was that not everything was equally easy. Programming and maths were the easiest, to the point that I could practically do them in my head. I could finally understand what mathematicians meant when they talked about the beauty of numbers or how mathematics was the 'handwriting of God'. Programming was more a case of thinking of clever ways to apply simple concepts, and the complexity I could handle in that respect, along with the ability to make use of a dedicated supercomputer meant that I advanced quickly.

The more distant the subject was from those 'hard' ones, though, the slower the going. Engineering and physics were easier than chemistry, which was easier than biology. By the time I got to the social sciences, there were just so many different variables that I simply couldn't model it mentally the way I could the harder sciences. I could still learn, though, so I persevered.

I did have a life outside of my studies, though. A week and a half before Christmas I set up a website with free download links a few miscellaneous programs I'd cooked up. There wasn't anything groundbreaking there – a streamlined word processor with a few nice features, a spreadsheet-maker and version 0.5 of my antivirus, which lacked the adaptive software – but there didn't need to be. The site was meant as a proof-of-concept more than anything. I'd advertised informally on a few forums, including the 'Corporate' board of Parahumans Online and I'd had a couple hundred downloads by the end of the second week. I'd had no real negative comments, and there were more than a few good reviews that people had made. I was rather pleased with the whole thing.

I'd taken up running in the mornings as well, and I was immeasurably glad for the part of my power that allowed me to ignore the cold of winter in the Bay. We almost never had snow or even really frost in Brockton, but that didn't mean it wasn't cold enough in the mornings for breath to mist in the air and to nip at fingers, ears and noses. It did me good. I was pretty sure that I shouldn't have been getting rid of my pot-belly and building muscle at the rate I was, but that's powers for you. I even started to flesh out a little - just a little - in other areas. I was more than a little happy with that.

Christmas itself was a quiet affair, as the previous one had been. Mom used to make a massive thing out of the holiday, but Dad and I didn't really seem to have the will without her. Still, we both made an effort, dragging the plastic tree out of the attic and buying each other a few small presents. I got Dad a nice notebook and an aftershave set, while he bought me a small camera, a cheap cellphone - he'd got one for himself as well, as he didn't want something like the Cave to ever happen again (I didn't point out that I almost certainly wouldn't get any signal if it did) - and a ticket for a four-session self-defense course.

"You've been out and about recently," he said when I asked him why he got it "And if you're going to be wandering around the city I thought it'd be a good idea for you to know how to defend yourself."

And so it was that on January 3rd I headed into town, armed with a ticket and determined to test how far my learning-abilities extended into the physical side of things.

A/N: So, readers who came to this story before the 22nd of March 2018 may remember a character named Adrian. These memories are false. He does not exist and never did. The author did not retcon him out of existence because he had a better idea and Adrian annoyed him.

Also, because it's been pointed out to me that I just keep unveiling more things that Taylor's capable of, I'm going to address that. It's a part of one of the main themes which I want to explore in this fic, that of transhumanism. Dust is, fundamentally, a tool created to transcend the boundaries of what one is capable of, physically and mentally. It's a substance which uplifted a civilization to near-gods, and while Taylor certainly won't be omnipotent, a part of the drama of Samyaza is going to be to do with her dealing with the separation from other people that her abilities engender. Most parahumans are separated in one specific area - they're physically superior, can figure things out that others can't, they can shoot laser beams etc. In almost all cases, however, these differences are, for lack of a better word, discrete. They're this thing and nothing else. That's not so much the case for this Taylor. Pretty much everything that she does will eventually be touched by her Dust-given arete. On one hand, that's awesome. She'll be able to do better than almost anyone if she really tries. On the other hand, that's isolating. The push-and-pull between humanity and transhumanity is going to be a major element of the story, and Adrian's character is going to be a part of that.


	7. Spark - u

Joshua Hopkins stretched carefully before the class, just as his power-given skill - 'preparation for physical activity' at the moment - told him. He felt a little bad, sometimes, for gaming his powers so much to help himself out in his civilian life, but then he remembered what he'd gone through to get them and any guilt evaporated. Fair is fair; it would be different if he'd just pulled the powers out of a hat, but he'd suffered for them, and they were useful as all hell. For one, they were what let him teach the self-defence class.

It was ironic, he knew, a villain teaching self-defense - and well, too, he prided himself on doing well by his students, even if that made him sound like one of the old masters in the cultivation novels that Leet liked so much - but then it wasn't like they'd ever be likely to turn what they learned against him and Leet. They didn't make a business out of going after civvies or drug-dealing. They weren't a gang.

That was what he told himself, at least. It's for the sake of the games. It's for the art. They'd started off as a distraction more than anything else, then they'd had to steal a couple things for Leet's tech and the next thing they knew they were on the evening news as villains. They hadn't even hurt anyone, not for months. Then there was the GTA thing, and the Final Fantasy caper where he'd clipped a man's arm with Cloud's sword and broken it. And, and, and...

The villain shook himself like a dog and let the stretching-skill drain away in favour of an equal blend of 'coaching' and 'effective self-defence'. The bills on the apartment had to be paid, and there was no way he was risking his and Leet's identities being traced back because of fucking rent money. The class paid well, and it had grown on him anyway.

He cracked his knuckles and strode into the hall of the old community centre where the lessons were held. Fold-up chairs were leaned against the walls, and the crash-mats were still out from the earlier lesson. He grabbed one of the chairs and sat down on it, then pulled out his phone to pass the time.

People trickled in one-by-one. Most were in their late teens or early twenties. A few wore the colours of the Empire, but they were visibly the dregs - a couple of weedy teens who couldn't be more obviously hangers-on if they tried. By the time 11 rolled around, there were about 15 or so.

Josh slipped his phone into his pocket and hopped to his feet. Striding out to the front of the hall. He clapped his hands together to get their attention.

"Alright, so you're all here for the self-defence classes. I'm Joshua Hopkins and I'll be your teacher this morning. Can you line up facing me, please." A minute or so passed as the group shuffled their way into a rough line. The Empire groupies hung together. "First of all, how many of you have got in a fight before? Something serious, I mean, not playground scuffles. Hands up."

All but two hands went up. It was Brockton Bay, after all.

"Who's been taught to fight before? Boxing, martial arts, anything?"

Fewer hands.

"Alright. What I'm going to be teaching you is not how to fight. What I'll be teaching you, as the name of the course suggests, is how to defend yourself. That means that what I'll primarily be teaching is a collection of techniques for disabling an opponent so you can get away, along with a couple for dealing with knives, guns and so on. If you're here looking for ways to start fights, you're going to be disappointed." Sure enough, the Empire groupies looked crestfallen, along with a few others.

He sank into the rhythm of the lesson, obeying the nudges and wordless suggestions of his power. He demonstrated a few basic techniques - a simple throw, a hold that forced the opponent to drop a weapon and a few others - then had his students pair off to practice on each other, starting with the throw. He stalked up and down between the mats, pointing out flaws, giving recommendations and offering praise where warranted.

There were a couple who stood out. One was a guy in his late teens, well-built with short blond hair. He approached each throw with a kind of razored focus which made up for a bit of clumsiness. Another was a tall, skinny girl with long, curly hair and nothing in the way of a chest. She was just… good. Her movements were fast and smooth, she never seemed to lose focus and after ten minutes of throwing, being thrown and getting back up she didn't look tired, even though she didn't look like she exercised all that much. It was kind of scary, actually. She didn't even seem like she was concentrating all too hard, as if her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't put her hand up for having been taught before, either.

Talent, or something else? Josh decided it wasn't his place to pry. Who was he to object if some new cape wanted to learn self-defence? Too many of them got killed off too quickly and even if what he was teaching wouldn't help in the least against Hookwolf it might do something for her if she got stuck in an alley with a gangbanger at some point. He moved on but kept an eye on her as he continued his rounds. Ten minutes later he strode to the front of the hall and called the repetitions to a stop. He opened his mouth and let his power do the talking.

"You're all doing well, although we'll be going over that again in the rest of the sessions. If you want to be able to use this effectively, you need to train it to the point that it's reflex, at least to some degree. The faster you can get the other guy on the ground, the quicker you can get away. Now, for the next part, I'm gonna need someone to help me demonstrate."

He was about to ask for someone to volunteer, then his eyes flickered to tall-and-flat-chest. _Why not?_ "Would you mind?" he asked, pointing.

She froze for a moment, then came forward.

"Thank you. You are…?"

"Taylor."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor. Now, take this" - he handed her a rubber knife - "And stand like this." He demonstrated the stance he wanted. She slipped into it easily and his coaching skill noted the way she imitated his pose perfectly. _Damn_.

The supervillain ran through the grip in slow-motion, step-by-step, explaining it as he went. "Okay, we're going to try and do it for real, now. Try and stab me."

The first stab was half-hearted and hesitant. He caught it easily and knocked the knife from her hand, then handed it back.

"Faster. Put your back into it; I could have blocked that in my sleep. I can't show how this is meant to go if you do it like that." Sometimes the coaching skill made him feel like a dick - and like his high school gym teacher, which was basically the same thing - but it worked. The girl's - Taylor's - eyes hardened visibly and she lunged forwards with lightning speed, but no technique. It was harder, but he caught the blow again. Again, the rubber knife fell to the floor.

"Much better. Thank you for that. Did you see how I..." Once again Josh sank into the rhythm of the teaching, watching Taylor slink back into line. It had been tempting to escalate, to draw her into a bit of a spar to test out just how good she was, but he couldn't do it now. Not in front of the class.

Josh kept an eye on the dark-haired girl as the lesson continued, but apart from her precision and the way she never seemed to get tired nothing was really out of place. Probably a cape, but it wasn't like he could really do anything with that information – nor did he want to. He and Leet wanted nothing less than to draw attention in the way that unmasking a cape would. Still, any clues about the powers of a newcomer were always welcome. Some kind of low-level brute, he thought, With some kind of reflex-enhancement. Maybe regeneration? After all, brutes tended to be tough or regenerative, and she hadn't shown any real indications of superhuman toughness.

The rest of the lesson slipped by quickly. It seemed only moments before he was saying goodbye to the group and seeing them out the door. The girl gave him a hard look as she strode out into the late morning gloom but left quickly, quickly vanishing around a corner, her big backpack hanging off of one shoulder. She walked with the same mechanical precision as she had fought.

Josh stayed long enough to put the crash mats back in their proper places, then climbed onto his motorbike and wove out into the sparse traffic. Twenty minutes later, he was back at the Most Secret Lair of Uber and Leet ™, an abandoned motel that they'd taken over months ago because Leet's powerometer has registered that the electricity had never been shut off for some reason. Of course, a half-dozen power sources had been added one-by-one whenever the tinker ran out of power.

"Honey, I'm hooome!" he called as he stepped inside, flicking the light in the entrance on and dumping the plastic bag of snacks he picked up on the way on the remains of the receptionist's desk.

"Fuck you," came the muffled voice of his best friend from upstairs. The plastics room, he guessed.

"Love you too. Blown anything up yet?"

"Not so far." There was the sound of feet on the stairs and then Lucas rounded the corner, making a beeline for the food bag. He stuck his head inside, then looked up with a betrayed expression. "No apples?"

Josh tapped his temple. "Power says you eat too much acid."

"But why?! I thought we were friends!"

"I'm not gonna feed your weird apple obsession. You want them, go buy them yourself."

"Stingy fucker."

"Addict."

"Cheater."

"Explode-o-tinker."

They settled easily into the back-and-forth of insults as they climbed the stairs to the undisputed heart of the lair: the game room. It was magnificent: a Leet-brand TV (higher definition than the human eye was capable of perceiving, or at least that was Luke claimed), two top-tier gaming PCs, one of every single console on the market and a couple not on it and, most importantly of all, the best sofa in the world, voted so unanimously. The room was scrupulously clean; no wrappers for the ultimate gaming duo. This was their temple, their holiest of holies.

Josh cracked a grin, remembering the time they'd set up the shrine to the Gaming Greats in the corner: Bowser, Mario, Cloud, Sephiroth, they were all there.

As always, sinking down into the sofa was like sitting on a cloud. Servos whirred quietly, moving the foam pads within the body of the thing so as to provide a place to sit comfortably, but not so much as to result in bad backs after a while. Bliss.

"What d'you wanna play?"

"Monster Hunter?"

"Sure."

The duo settled down to the game, and the girl faded from Josh's mind as he concentrated on bringing down the Hellblade Glavenus.

XxXxX

 **A/N:** Not a massive amount of substance in this update, I know, but it'll become important later.


	8. Kindle - 1

I shivered a little as I left the community centre. The instructor had been good-looking, but he'd been staring at me a bit too intently for my liking. _Creepy_.

I shook off the thought. I'd learned plenty. Firstly, my power evidently did help with learning physical things. The stances, throws and grips had been easy to copy and I knew for a fact that I was doing the best out of all the people there. Second, it was difficult to hold back, to fake clumsiness as I had been doing in the latter part of the lesson. Too many people had asked whether I'd done it before to be coincidence, and the last thing I wanted was to accidentally out myself as a cape.

Speaking of which, cape business was why I was walking down to the nearest bus stop to catch the bus into town instead of going home. There was only one cape in Brockton Bay who was a non-combatant: Parian, a cloth-controller who had a shop on the Boardwalk. My reason for going to meet her was twofold. Firstly, I needed advice on how being a Rogue worked, and who better to get it from than another Rogue? I'd looked up the laws regarding parahumans in business - and there were many - but nothing really beat experience. Secondly, I needed a costume and I knew nothing about sewing. I could learn, but I'd still need a sewing machine, material and stuff, and learning would take time. Better and easier to just go ask for one, and I was pretty sure that even if I couldn't pay up front for what I wanted I could trade for it.

The bus arrived shortly and I hopped on, managing to find a seat next to a window. I watched the city roll by as it wended its way towards the Boardwalk, and I could see its decay. I had read a few theories of social and economic decay over the holidays (there had been an uptick in people writing those over the last few decades) and I could see them in action. Here a boarded-up shop, lowering the appeal of all those around it, there a pack of gangers stalking the streets. Fear of Leviathan may have started Brockton's decline, but it was the gangs that continued to hammer in the nails.

I had to do something about it, before it was too late. It might already be. I'd seen the economic projections on Dad's computer. They weren't pretty. The only real things keeping the Bay afloat were cape tourism, medical tourism and a couple of the bigger companies like Medhall. The Bay needed an influx of workers and businesses, or it wouldn't last much longer as more than a city in name only. I had ideas but no way to implement them. Yet.

The bus pulled up and I climbed off, then made a beeline for the mall, where I knew Parian was putting on one of her shows.

The cape had set up her stage in an open area where three avenues of shops met, and had attracted a sizable crowd. There were people there of all ages, from children to pensioners. The children sat on the floor in front, while adults used cheap plastic chairs. I slipped into one of the seats towards the back and settled down to watch the show.

On stage, a small army of puppets waged war, the casualties floating gently down to the ground. Parian herself stood behind the stage, a living Victorian doll directing her miniature armies like a conductor directing an orchestra. Behind her stood a teddy bear the size of an actual bear, smiling indulgently. She narrated the battle as she went, weaving a story of a handsome prince battling an evil king. Finally, the prince emerged victorious and a cheer went up from the crowd - more from the children, but the adults clapped appreciatively. Parian curtsied gracefully and the stage-cloth rose into the air, wrapping itself around the fallen puppets. I stood. I needed to get changed.

I slipped into the nearest toilets, then pulled off my backpack and opened it up. I drew out the cheap grey suit I'd bought with the last of my savings, along with the cheap plastic mask. It was clear, meant to be painted, and the only features it had were a pair of eyeholes and a set of small holes around the mouth area.

I pulled on the suit and found to my pleasure that it hadn't creased too badly since I'd ironed it the night before. I looked quite good in it, actually. Businesslike. It was just a pity that the suit was so scratchy.

 _Now for the mask._

I'd come up with the idea a week or so ago after a news bulletin with footage of Purity. She didn't wear a mask, relying on the light she emitted to keep her identity secret. I placed it over my face and pulled the elastic around the back of my head, tucking it under my hair so it wouldn't be seen. Then I closed my eyes and pictured a second mask, one made of my glow hugging the inside of the plastic one. I opened my eyes to a sea of shifting gold.

Something I'd learned over the holidays was that on top of emitting light and forming into screens, my glow could also sense light, forming fluctuating discs about the size of a dollar coin.* So if I formed a pair of these little cameras in the eye holes and a 'screen' on the inside displaying their feed...

Light bloomed, and I was treated to the slightly underwhelming sight of a grey bathroom stall, its walls scrawled with a dozen different slogans, slurs and random phone numbers. I had practised the technique over the last few days, but it was a relief that it was still working. I judged that I'd taken long enough and left the stall, pausing to take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror.

The glow concealed my features completely, allowing only the slightest suggestion of a face to be seen. The camera-eyes stood out little, but the blank-eyed look worked with the image, I felt. The image on the inside was clear and crisp. I could barely tell it apart from when I was seeing normally. The suit was a little ratty-looking, and it certainly wouldn't be featuring on any fashion shows any time soon but it got the message across.

All in all, I looked… different. Not like myself at all. It was a bit too impersonal to be traditionally heroic, but I wasn't trying for Legend's personable charisma. I was more after what Alexandria had, what her grey costume and dark glass mask gave her: an appearance of implacability and inevitability, something more statuesque than a human. It worked, I decided. Satisfied, grabbed up my bag and strode out of the bathroom.

Immediately, a susurrus of whispers spread like wildfire across the dispersing crowd and phones came out in seconds. I resisted the urge to shrink back. _You're a cape now, Taylor. You're Aurum. You're going to take this city and make it_ better _, and you can't do that if you're afraid of a few cameras._

Squaring my shoulders, I strode over to where Parian was packing up the last of her things. I swallowed, pushing down my trepidation.

"Parian?"

She turned, then caught sight of me and froze for a moment. The cloth she had been levitating fell to the ground with a _whump_ while the giant teddy moved towards us. She turned to face me completely, shifting into a defensive posture.

"Yes? I believe you have me at a disadvantage."

"I'm Aurum. Nice to meet you," I replied, trying not to cringe at the coldness in her tone.

"I'm sure," she said, not taking the hand I offered. "So. Who sent you? I haven't seen you around, and the Empire would have announced a new cape. You're not Protectorate either. Is this the Elite dropping me a line?"

"No, no I'm not here for anyone," I backpedaled. "I just wanted some advice."

The cape's head cocked to the side. Coupled with the full-face mask and the doll-like look, the effect was unsettling.

"Advice on what?"

"Uh, being a rogue," I replied. "You're the only other one in the city, so I thought…"

"Oh. Sorry for assuming," Parian apologised. "Usually when a cape visits me they're either trying to recruit me or get me to make a costume for them. Just let me finish packing up, then I'll be with you. I don't have anything on later today, although if you want consultation in the future I'll have to ask you to call beforehand. I do have an official phone number."

"Thanks. Uh, sorry about that. The not-booking, I mean." I almost mentioned that I was going to ask if she could help me out with a costume, then bit my lip. I could bring that up later.

"It's alright," she replied. "It's good to see someone trying to go the rogue route." She turned back to the stacks of fabric. They rose into the air and re-rolled themselves. Within moments it was done, and the giant teddy wobbled forward and hoisted the stuff up onto its shoulder.

"So," Parian said as she started walking. "You want to be a rogue. How do you intend to make money out of your powers? Because you have to be careful with that, according to the NEPEA-5 they passed back in 1998."

"Well, I've got three main ideas," I began, following. "First, I'm… kind of a tinker? Sort of? It's more like I just have a real knack for computer programming. So I thought I could write useful programs and sell them, like computer companies do. Patents and things. I know the PRT will have to examine those before I can sell them legally, but so long as I do new things, I'm not infringing on the Act."

I couldn't see Parian's face, but I got the impression she was grimacing. "That's going to be tricky. You're right about having to go through the PRT, but they're meant to be really stringent on tinkertech."

"Yeah. It's not tinkertech, but they'll make me jump through the same hoops."

All the information I'd found on the laws surrounding the sale of tinkertech pointed towards that eventuality. Anything even remotely tinkertech-like made by a parahuman legally had to go through the PRT for assessment. Officially it was to ensure that no-one could sneak some kind of bomb or similar device into something that got into common circulation. In reality, it served as too good an economic stranglehold for it not to have ulterior motives. It was the legal equivalent of founding a city on the Hellespont - a position of power from which one could dictate trade. It had been Congress that had passed the bill, but I would be surprised if the PRT's directors hadn't had a hand in promoting it and, really, I could see the sense. It was just irritating for me.

There was a group of renegade tinkers, Toybox, who sold their inventions more-or-less freely, but they only managed to get away with that because they were based in a pocket dimension built by one of their members, Dodge. Well, that and the fact that they were careful to not sell anything too powerful, or with the potential to do too much damage. The PRT and Protectorate turned a blind eye to them so long as they didn't make too many waves. I had actually considered getting in contact with them, but they'd expect me to move into their pocket dimension, which I didn't want to do. I wasn't just in this for myself, after all. I wanted to help Dad and the city, and I couldn't really do that from some pocket dimension who-knows-where. The whole point of this rogue-thing to start off with was to pull together the funds to get a company started, in Dad's name, probably, which I could use as a platform to get other ideas and designs patented and making money and jobs without having to go through the PRT.

We exited the mall and were angling around towards the parking lot. A few people had followed us as we went, but none tried to approach or ask for an autograph or anything.

"My second thought was selling computer-time." Parian looked at me questioningly. I raised a hand and pushed out some of the glow. It coiled lazily around my fingers. "Part of my power lets me enhance computers. Like, I used it on a laptop and it's as good as a supercomputer while I'm enhancing it. I thought I could get people to pay me to enhance their computers for however long."

Parian looked upwards, tapping an arm with a finger thoughtfully.

"I think that would probably be easier to do. You'll need to register with the PRT and get your power tested before they'll let you, but you'd need to do that to be a rogue at all. I'm sure you know that already, though. Also, you might have to deal with people saying that you're taking away jobs from normal people, although it probably won't be too bad unless you enhance computers permanently. Not too many people are involved in making supercomputers, after all, and that's mostly over by San Francisco. It'd be different if you were over there. You said you had three ideas?"

We were nearing a van with Parian's mask emblazoned on the side above an ornate scroll on which fancy cursive writing picked out the name of her business. The van beeped twice and the lights flashed. The teddy bear wobbled around to the back and pulled the doors open, placing the show supplies inside before climbing in itself, pulling the doors closed behind it.

"Yeah. The third one was to do consultancy work. It's a bit of a combination of the other two. You know, put out ads, be hired to fix a problem fix it, get paid, that sort of thing."

The cloth-manipulator paused for a moment. "I'd say probably wait on that one. You'll need a bit of reputation first, otherwise you won't get any jobs. Make a name for yourself, then go that route if you still want to."

She pulled back a frill on her wrist, revealing a watch.

"Ah, I've gotta go. I've got another show to do, a private one. Good luck!"

Before I could say anything, she had vanished around the side of the van and climbed in. In another few seconds the van drew away. I watched it vanish, then remembered something. I forgot to ask her about the costume.

 _Dammit_.

XxXxXxXxX

*Earth Bet uses these.

 **A/N:** As an apology for the wait for the last two chapters, here's three in a row.


	9. Kindle - 2

I sat in my room nervously, a neat pile of papers to my left on the bed and my laptop on my knees. I'd reorganized the pile twice and had resorted to surfing the Parahumans Online forums to pass the time until Dad got back. Outside, the sky was grey and rain spattered against the window panes.

I didn't want to do this. I really, _really_ didn't want to have to tell Dad about my powers. On one hand, he couldn't criticise me for what I wanted to do with them. It wasn't like I was just going out to beat up gangbangers and villains, after all, and I was trying to work towards being able to do the greatest amount of good for as many people as I could. If all went well I'd even provide jobs for the dockworkers. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation, though. I'd kept my powers secret for the better part of a month, and if I knew Dad - which I didn't as well as I would like - he'd want me to leave off, to postpone my plans until I was older.

I _couldn't_ , though. Literally couldn't. In the week since my conversation with Parian, I'd finished the economic and sociological simulation for the Bay and by the time I was 20, the city would be irrevocably lost to gangs, unemployment and crime. For the moment we were scraping by on tourism, but that wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later Panacea would move away, or die, or sign up with the Protectorate or something would happen that would take medical tourism off the table. The big companies like Medhall would pack up and leave eventually unless something pulled the city out of its slump, and there was the ever-present threat of an Endbringer attack hanging over us like the Sword of Damocles. Analyses I'd managed to dig up suggested that the monsters tended to attack places that were already struggling with conflict, or more rarely where someone or something was that could help on a wider scale. An Endbringer attack would be the final nail in our coffin, and even if there wasn't much I could do personally against the Hero-Killer, the Bane of Kyushu or the False Angel, I could try to help indirectly.

And so I had to talk to Dad, because without him I couldn't register as a rogue with the PRT, being a minor, and without registering they'd come down on me like a ton of legalese bricks. I just wished I didn't have to.

I put my face in my hands and rubbed at it, trying to scour away the uncertainty. It didn't make me feel much better.

After what seemed like an age of waiting the front door creaked open. I heard footsteps, then the rustle of a drenched raincoat being hung up. More footsteps, then the click of the kettle being switched on. I breathed in heavily, then out again. _It's time._

I picked up the papers and left my room, descending the stairs. Dad turned as I entered the kitchen.

"Hi, Taylor," he said, mustering a wan smile through his obvious exhaustion. "How've you been?" I was tempted to leave my reveal to another day when he was less tired, but I knew that if I did that now I'd keep doing it, keep putting it off.

"I've been alright," I replied. "Nothing much happened." I bit my lip. "I've got something to tell you, Dad." Before I could lose my nerve I drew out the glow, letting it cascade over my skin as it had back in the cave. "I'm a cape."

Dad blinked, then blinked again. Then he seemed to collect himself with an effort and turned away, back to the kettle. I knew him well enough to know that he was busying his hands while he dealt with what I'd just told him. I pulled the glow back in and waited for him to say something. A long minute passed before he did.

"What can you do?" he asked, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea in front of him. I sat down opposite and began to explain my powers in brief, although I left out a few of the tricks I'd learned over Christmas. No need to overcomplicate things. When I was finished there was a long, dragging pause.

"I know you're not going to like me saying this, Taylor," he began. "Because you've got so much of your mother in you, but I don't want you to go out and try to be a hero-"

"I don't want to," I interrupted, then barrelled on as he raised an eyebrow. "Not like you're thinking at least. Look at this." I flipped through my papers until I found the results of the economic simulation and handed the sheet to him. His face slowly went the colour of cold porridge. "The Bay isn't going to last much longer, not without more jobs. So I'm going to try and help there."

He frowned. "How? There was talk a while back when that cape, the one with the suits..."

"Rigger?" He had been a tinker based with a specialty in exoskeletons who'd tried to sell his suits commercially, but had disappeared about a year ago. Some people thought that the Elite had kidnapped him and spirited him off to the west coast, but there had never been any evidence.

"That's the one. He was talking about setting up a business around maintaining his suits, but it didn't work out. We tried, but we could only do the basic stuff - that's how tinker technology works, only tinkers can make it or keep it going."

"That's not what I meant," I replied. "I'm not really a tinker, see? It's just that because of the way my powers work I can program better."

He looked at me dubiously, as if to say 'I don't see the difference'.

"I've looked up tinkers, and they all say that they don't really understand what they're doing. For them, it's like they're suddenly inspired as to how to build something, but it's art, not science, and it's not really replicable. I've just got a knack for programming, and that's mostly because if I link up to a computer it's so much easier to just _see_ how things work."

"Alright," he said. "I get that, but I don't see how that helps other people get jobs."

"It won't, at first, but I'm only going to be the start. I can make a lot of money with my programs, with selling supercomputer-time and with consultancy work, and then I can put that money into businesses that do make jobs, and which can help the city."

"Yes, but where are those jobs going to come from?" Dad asked, and I could see that he was getting a little frustrated. "You can't just magic up jobs from nowhere, Taylor. I should know - trying to do that's my job."

"It'll work because that's not the end of it. I said earlier that I'm better at learning, but I'm just… smarter than I was before, too. Objectively. Those economic predictions" - I gestured to the sheet of paper in his hand - "I wrote it. And I had to learn professional-level economic theory to do so, then apply it to coding. I did that in three weeks - less, even. I've been studying physics, engineering, chemistry, biology, all of it, and I have ideas. Not tinkertech, but things I can patent and sell. And they'll need people to build them and people to manage the people who build them. And that's where the Unions come in."

Dad chewed his lip. "Look, as much as I love what you're trying to do, kiddo, I - I just don't want you to set yourself up for failure. A city's a big thing to try and fix on your own."

"I won't be alone. I'll be starting it, but the point is for other people to get behind it and carry it on. Which is why I'm telling you now: I need your help to start it off."

"Well, I'm glad I'm good for something. Why do you need me? You sound like you've got everything planned out." His tone was light, but there was a hardness in his eyes.

"I need help to make it work," I replied truthfully. "I can learn quickly, but you're more experienced in dealing with this kind of stuff. Also, there's a whole set of laws that say what capes can and can't do in business, and one of the things I have to do if I want to employ more than five people is to have a non-parahuman as head of the company."

"And you want me to do that," Dad completed. He sat back in his chair and ran a hand over the side of his face. "I don't know if I can. I mean, I'm union rep. I can't just leave that."

"I know," I replied. "I know it's a massive thing to ask, but you won't need to for a while. That'll only be once I've got the money to start the company properly. The first parts'll all be me. Although I'd really like your help with them."

"I'll do what I can," he said, sighing heavily. "But… are you sure you can't wait? I mean, you said that you planned all this out over Christmas, and learned all the stuff for it too. What if you took a year or two to get a degree or something - if you did this that quickly I'm certain you could - and then did it? You can't build your life around trying to pull a city out of a rut. It's too big for one person. You need to live, not just try and be a hero for everyone else. I'll tell you now, every hero in the Protectorate goes home and it's that they enjoy more than the work. That's just how people are. You're too young to try to take a city on your shoulders."

He said it kindly, but it grated nonetheless. I'd shown him the evidence. I couldn't wait a year, let alone longer. The sooner I started, the sooner I could make a difference, and a difference had to be made before long. I couldn't just say that to him, though - there would be no point trying to persuade Dad now.

"Maybe," I hedged. "But either way I've got to register with the PRT if I want to do anything officially, and they prefer if you do it sooner rather than later."

He fixed me with a look that told me he hadn't bought my change of stance, but he didn't comment. "Well, it's Saturday tomorrow. How long will it take?"

"I don't know exactly. Probably a few hours."

"We'll do that tomorrow, then, and afterwards we'll sit down and decide what we'll do. That okay?"

I nodded. Dad stood, then paused.

"You know I'm not asking you to wait because I don't think it's a good idea, right? I just don't want you to try and take on the world and burn out doing it."

"I know. I know I can't take on the world. But I have to do _something_."

He smiled sadly. "You've got too much of your mother in you. I'm sure she'd agree that something has to be done. I just - I just wish it no-one had to do it."

I stood as well, stepping around the table. "Me too. But someone has to, and I can."

He spread his arms hesitantly and I leant into him, wrapping my arms awkwardly around him. He returned the gesture just as uncomfortably, but there was an honesty in it. I focused on that and tried to keep my mind off of tomorrow.

 **A/N:** I do not like this chapter. It did _not_ want to be written. But here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it.

And to the guest reviewer who commented on Adrian, thank you for expressing your opinion. I shall take it into account and try and make the interactions less forced, but I stand by my belief that it's not unreasonable for someone who's in university, has a girlfriend and doesn't know that that their savior is a highschooler to want to say thank you, especially when said person is a cape enthusiast and suspects that their saviour is a cape themselves - a minor celebrity by nature. Speaking as a person around that age myself, it doesn't seem unreasonable to me as I believe that people of my age are capable of thinking with things other than that between their legs.


	10. Kindle - 3

I scanned over the last page before signing my cape name carefully at the bottom, then passed the sheet over the table to Dad. He placed it on the bottom of the centimetre-thick pile of similar papers, then picked up the sheaf and bounced it against the table, getting all the papers lined up neatly.

"And that's it."

Dad sighed heavily, sitting back in his seat. "Took long enough. I've seen documents for company mergers smaller than this."

In the end, I hadn't gone to the PRT on Saturday. It was Sunday afternoon, and the reason I hadn't gone and registered the day before was because of the sheer volume of contracts and legalese that registering as a rogue as a minor required. The forms could be downloaded and printed out easily enough, but the ease with which I could read through things on the computer had tricked me into thinking that they were shorter than they were. I already had the business model they asked for ready, so getting that in was mostly a matter of copy-pasting with a bit of editing on the side. What really took the time was Dad going over every inch of text with a fine-toothed comb. Probably a good precaution, because there were more than a few twisty clauses that he'd pointed out to me and I'd made notes on, but it took far too long, in my opinion. It was like the PRT was doing its absolute best to keep people from being rogues.

 _Actually_ , I thought, _I could see them doing that_. Not because they didn't want rogues, but because they wanted heroes more. After all, the hero-villain ration was 1 : 3.4 in America at the moment, and that wasn't a good position for them to be in. Still, I couldn't help but think that there had to be better ways of encouraging people to be heroes.

"So, do you want to go and take it in today?"

I glanced at the kitchen clock. It was still only 2 in the afternoon.

"I… think I'll go today."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," I replied. "I'll just scan it in so we've got our copy, then I'll call them."

XxXxX

As I walked up the steps to the PRT building, I wasn't quite as sure as I had been at the house.

The two black-dressed personnel who flanked the doors into the reception stiffened as I stepped though, but they didn't point the big gun-looking things they were holding at me. Containment foam launchers, I recalled from my research.

Putting on my best 'I'm a confident cape' impression, I strode across the reception to the main desk. The pretty, blonde-haired receptionist looked up as I approached.

"Hello. Um, I called an hour ago saying that I wanted to register with the PRT for rogue status?" It came out more like a question than I wanted, but the receptionist - Elena, her badge proclaimed - seemed unbothered, clicking her mouse a couple of times before peering at the computer screen.

"I've got an 'Aurum'. Code?"

"That's me." I looked over at where I'd written down the code I'd been given over the phone on my makeshift HUD. "Alpha-lamed-gimel-nine-seven-two-Oscar-Papa."

"Excellent. Director Piggot is currently in a meeting, but Deputy Director Renick is waiting to see you in his office. Marcus?"

One of the armoured troopers detached himself from the wall and came over. "Do you think you could direct Aurum here to the deputy director's office?"

"Sure," he replied, a gravelly rumble from under his helmet. "This way." He gestured with his water gun-looking weapon towards one of the doors at the back of the atrium, then started off towards it. Two corridors and an awkward lift ride later, I stood in front of a door with 'Dept. Dir. Renick' written on a brass plaque. Marcus knocked twice on the door.

"Yes?" came a voice from inside.

"Aurum here to see you, sir," the trooper replied.

"Let her in."

Marcus opened the door, letting me see the office beyond. It was a spartan thing, all white-painted walls and grey filing cabinets. The exception was the desk opposite the door, which was the dark, chocolatey colour of old, seasoned wood. The man behind the desk, backlit by the window behind him that looked out over Downtown, looked like he was in his late forties or early fifties, with greying hair that hadn't quite yet relinquished all of its old black. He smiled invitingly, and it reminded me of Dad when he saw an old friend.

 _That's quite impressive_ , I thought. I could barely make out any of the microexpressions I'd been reading up on. The smile lines pointed to him being the sort of person who smiled a lot, but that was just too perfect to be completely natural. _I wouldn't have picked up on any of that before I got my powers. I wonder just how much I didn't notice._

"Ah, good to meet you. Come in." I shook off my thoughts as he beckoned me into the room. Marcus closed the door behind me with a smart _click_.

"As I'm sure my door informed you, I am Deputy Director Renick. And I know your name, so now we're equal. Would you like a seat?" He gestured to one of the chairs opposite the desk, light pinewood things with blue cushions.

"I'll stand, thank you."

"Very well. This shouldn't take too long. I presume that's the documentation you've got there?"

I nodded, handing him the sheaf of papers. The dark-eyed man leafed through it, stopping every now and then to peer at a page in particular. Finally, he closed the papers and set them on his desk. "Well, it all looks like it's in order. I'll have to pass it down the ladder to be properly checked, but provided the power testing goes well and shows no adverse effects you should expect a digital copy of your rogue's license to arrive at the email address you gave us. Then you need to print it out as per regulations and all should be well - contingent, of course, on your obeying the law with regards to the restrictions on parahuman businesses, including sending any tinkertech or tinkertech-like to our review board before selling them or making them available to the public.

"Now, before we go on I'm obligated, due to your age, to raise the possibility of joining the Wards. Given that you've gone to the trouble of filling this out already" - he patted the documentation - "I'm assuming that you have your reasons for not doing so, but the Parahuman Response Team's regulations require that I offer you the chance."

"Sorry, but no. I did seriously consider the Wards, but I thought I could do more good as a rogue."

The deputy Director gave me a look like he didn't really believe what I was saying, but he let it slide. "Well, that's your decision. Please do keep in mind that the Wards are always an option, and that it's far better to be a Ward than it is to be press-ganged by a villain."

"I will," I replied.

"Good. Now, is there anything you want to ask me, or do you want to get on with the power testing? I'm sorry to hurry you along, but the whole of the branch is very busy at the moment. We put a priority on new parahumans' registration, but yours was… somewhat last-minute."

"Um, no, I'm fine. Sorry about that."

He smiled again. "It's more than alright. Better that you bother us now than vanish later without us knowing anything. If you've no questions, the training hall for powers is out on the Rig. Marcus can take you up to our end of the forcefield bridge. Just make sure not to look down."

Unwillingly, I found my lips curving up in a smile underneath my mask. "I won't."

"Good luck. Oh, and try not to let Doctor Hannigan get too carried away."

XxXxX

As it turned out, Dr. Hannigan was a short, middle aged-looking man with violently orange hair and an attitude that made a bouncy ball look subdued. He wasn't the only one waiting for me in the so-called testing room. There was a second man, a severe-looking older man with a pair of half-moon glasses who never seemed to look up from the laptop he held in his hands. He introduced himself as Dr. Aarons, a specialist in thinker- and tinker-type powers. There were a pair of younger staff as well who looked like they'd just been pulled from doing something else, who the red-haired man introduced as his 'ever-lovely minions' and Aarons had clarified to be lower-level staff from the PRT's analysis department. As soon as introductions were completed, Hannigan brought his hands together in a ringing clap.

"So! The page you sent in listed your powers as 'general physical enhancement', 'manipulation of a golden dust-like substance', 'enhancement of digital devices' and 'programming skills'. The easiest of those to test is the first one, so let's start there. The Brute machines are over here," - he started over towards the far end of the hall, more than fifty metres away, where a number of large, blocky machines took up the wall - "But can you tell me anything more about these 'physical enhancements'?"

"Well, I'm a bit stronger, a bit faster and and just generally kind of… better than I was before," I began as I followed. "When I started training - running in the morning, that sort of thing - I got better faster than I thought I would as well. I've got this… membrane, kinda, underneath my skin as well."

"Hmm. Well, it sounds like you're what we in the biz of parahuman sciences call a physiological brute, as opposed to a coherent brute like Alexandria. That is, your superhuman abilities are based on an aberrant _physiology_ as opposed to an anomalous effect which keeps you unnaturally coherent. Aegis is a physiological brute as well."

We reached the end of the hall and the scientist gestured expansively at a set of three machines. "So what do you want to test first? Strength, endurance, speed or toughness?"

It turned out that the toughness test, which I chose to go first, consisted of a machine that measured the exact amount of pressure it took first to bring up a light bruise and then the same for taking a prick with a needle. Speed and endurance were just running on the treadmill, first as fast as I could go - 'only' professional athlete level, apparently, which I was fairly happy with - for as long as I could go. Apparently some thinker in the 90s had come up with a way of mathematically quantifying endurance, and their method was based off of endurance at top speed. After twenty minutes we we called it quits. Apparently my endurance was astronomical. It wasn't exactly news to me, but it was good to have a second opinion.

Once that was finished Dr Aarons fetched another laptop from a small table at the side of the hall. It was a cheap one, the same sort of machine that I had been looking for for an affordable computer before Christmas.

"Please use your power on this to the greatest extent that you can," he instructed curtly. "Its wireless functions have been disabled."

"How will you know if I've done anything?" I asked.

"The device has been programmed to record any alterations in its specifications. Now, proceed please."

I stretched out a hand and allowed the glow to flow out of my fingers. It obeyed my intentions eagerly, sinking into the machine's workings. As usual, I felt its architecture bloom in my mind but I deliberately kept myself separate from it. I'd decided that I didn't want to reveal this aspect of my powers to the PRT, because I was almost certain that they'd never let me sell enhancements if they knew I could make this kind of connection.

"Alright, I've boosted it. What now?"

"Wait while I examine the effects," replied the older scientist, spinning the laptop around to face him. I could feel what he was doing like someone tracing a finger over my skin. It was odd, just being connected without doing anything. Not uncomfortable but… different.

"What is the range at which you can maintain the effect?"

"What?"

"What is the range at which you can maintain the effect?" the older man repeated, shooting me an irritated glare.

"I haven't found a maximum range," I answered. "Although I haven't really been able to test it very well. Until a couple of days ago I hadn't told anyone about my powers." That was only partly true - I'd been able to keep up a connection from the other side of the city, but I couldn't say that if I wanted to keep my technopathy to myself.

Other questions followed, but all of them were easily answered. AFter that I demonstrated a couple of things I had learned to do with the Dust, keeping it to the screens, a few shapes and an explanation of the 'cameras' I used for my eyes. At the analysts' request I formed a couple of extra ones and directed them around, displaying their feeds on their own screens. Finally, I was asked an exhaustive list of questions on my capabilities in programming. By the time they were finished I was ready to drop, and I was informed that I definitely qualified as a tinker, although not really a very powerful one. I was fine with that, though. What I could do now was a fraction of what I knew I'd be able to do in the future, once I had learned more and had more time to work stuff out myself.

Thankfully, once the questions were complete that was the end of my registration process, at least until I got a reply back. I started home with relief, changing back into my normal clothes in a public restroom on the way back. By the time I reached home the sun had nearly set, but I was happy.

All I had to do now was wait, and I'd be able to start making a difference.


	11. Kindle - d

The connection was made and webcam blinked on, giving Dragon a real-time feed of Colin's lab.

"Good morning Colin. Did you sleep well?" she asked, knowing full well that he hadn't. The shadows under his eyes attested to that, as did the mug of pitch-black coffee he held in his hand.

The other tinker's lips twitched in his version of a smile. "Well enough." There was a pause before he seemed to remember that reciprocation was usual for such a question. "You?"

"The same," lied the AI, ignoring the faint twinge of guilt. Such deceptions were reflexive now, an integral part of her public identity, the same as her digital avatar. "Although there was an altercation in the Birdcage this morning. Comparator made a play for Acidbath's position as block leader. She didn't survive."

"Hmm. A pity she had to be 'caged. Her power could have been useful."

"I could say the same for a lot of the parahumans there," replied Dragon. "Now, you mentioned a new rogue in your email earlier, and that you wanted to talk about her."

"Yes. She came in for registration and power testing yesterday. Went by Aurum."

"A good name for a rogue," remarked the Canadian tinker. "Connotations of virtue and wealth without giving too much away or being too ostentatious."

"I suspect she has someone advising her on her self-presentation. Either that or she's uncommonly clear-headed for a teenager." His fingers flashed across the touchscreen monitor and a file arrived on Dragon's server. "Here's the analysts' preliminary report on her powers."

The AI took a moment to read the summary section. If Colin wanted to discuss something specific he'd draw attention to it. Her avatar's eyebrows rose. "Shaker 3, tinker 3, thinker 2 and brute 1. Unusual. You don't tend to see tinkers with other ratings."

"No. She's not really a tinker, though, not in the traditional sense. As far as we can tell, her 'tinkering' abilities really are simply an intuitive understanding of programming." Another file appeared. "There's some details there about the program she's sent us so far, and I've examined it myself. I can follow the programming perfectly. I could type it up myself now. Anyone who knows C++ well could. It's not groundbreaking when compared to Earth Aleph programming, just put together extremely well. I can't find a single bug."

"What is it?"

"Oh, just an antivirus, but it's a good one. I'd expect something similar to be put out by a team of professional programmers working for a company like RedGuard or Caldera."

"That's impressive for a teenager, but what makes it special?"

"Firstly, there's the fact that it's clearly not tinker-programming."

Almost all tinker-made programs were written in personalized languages and were nigh-incomprehensible at best, even if you knew the language in question. On top of that, they often used algorithms which relied on peculiarities of the tinkertech they were installed on. Her power helped, but even then it was the same as most other tinkertech. Usually, she was only able to tease out fractions of the code's secrets, even with her natural advantage in the area. The problems weren't nearly so bad if she was collaborating with the original tinker, of course, but the issue still stood.

"You're hoping that her power works like mine, aren't you?"

"I am. I suspect that her power may be something like an ability to understand and improve upon existing programming, rather than just a 'knack' for it. After all, a power granting the ability to create non-tinkertech is essentially unprecedented. More likely it's a thinker/tinker power like yours, and if it extends to tinker-made programming, I think I may ask if she will work as a consultant of sorts, presuming that she doesn't eventually join the Protectorate herself."

"It's certainly an interesting possibility," Dragon conceded, "Although I'm not so sure myself. What if it's similar to the tinker powers Teacher used to grant; low-level but compensating for its relative weakness and narrow scope with reliability?"

It was something that a number of studies into parahuman abilities had found; that there was a negative correlation between the general utility and strength of a tinker power and how reliable the technology tended to be, although there were a few exceptions, such as her own power. Leet was on the extreme end of that scale - his power was so broad that PRT thinkers had nothing better than guesses at his actual speciality, but his devices were incredibly unstable.

"Perhaps," Colin conceded. "But either way I think that the possibility merits investigation."

"You'll have to convince her to tell you," said Dragon. "She's done what's mandated by law already."

"Mmm. In any case, the second part of what I was going to say was that her shaker power allows her to enhance the computational abilities of technology."

"To what extent?"

"Dr Aarons reported that the laptop they used for testing - a cheap one, low specifications - was at the level of the non-tinkertech computers that Watchdog uses."

If Dragon were a human she would have blinked. "That's impressive. Were there any side effects?" Surely a power like that had to have a downside. Perhaps it damaged the device after use?

"None that could be found. An exhaustive examination was made of the software, and then the laptop was taken apart and checked for any physical effects. Nothing. No lingering improvements, either. She claimed to have no maximum range as well. The only reason she wasn't rated higher is that her power doesn't have much application to combat, and the ratings are threat ratings."

Dragon took a moment to take that in. "She could be a formidable hacker," she remarked. "We'd never be able to track her down if she can enhance anything and then leave without any trace that she had done so. We'd be left chasing her in circles."

"It would be difficult. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to be inclined towards villainy."

"Thankfully. So, I presume she wants to sell use of her enhancement power?"

"Yes."

"And you'll want to buy it."

Armsmaster hmmed an affirmative. "Once she's proven herself trustworthy. And once it's verified that she can use her power on tinkertech. It would be an excellent method of increasing the capabilities of my gear without having to add more to it. It's a pity I can't use it for that without her actually being a part of the Wards or Protectorate. Still, I'm sure I could make at least a few improvements if I had access to better computational facilities, and whatever she decides to charge will be far less than I would have to pay for a supercomputer of my own."

"True." Dragon was almost tempted herself. Then an idea struck her.

"What if she joined the Guild as an affiliate member? Her powers could be of great use to me and the rest of our tinkers, she would have oversight, which would give you leverage to persuade the board to allow you use of her power on your gear, and she would be able to continue as a rogue."

Colin blinked. "That's an excellent solution."

"She would have to agree first," the AI pointed out.

"I can't see why she wouldn't."

"Maybe she wouldn't want the extra expectations. She is a teenager, after all."

Colin frowned. He was a very intelligent man, in Dragon's opinion, but he did often have trouble with understanding other people's perspectives. He loved the acknowledgement of his abilities and effort, so the idea of someone not wanting that was quite alien to him. "I'll bring up the possibility with the Director in the meeting later."

"If you're going to do that," Dragon began, pulling up the time for the meeting. It was at 3 in the afternoon. "I think it would be better if I was there as well, both as a representative of the Guild and as an interested party. I'll be seeing Narwhal before then and I'll sound her out on the matter."

Armsmaster nodded. "Very well. Now, I've run into a problem trying to incorporate the catalytic dynamo into my anti-tinker halberd."

Dragon's mind switched over to tinker-mode. "For the EMP, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I can't seem to find a way to miniaturize the device enough that I can fit it between the con-foam container and the motherboard."

XxXxX

 **A/N:** Apologies for the shorter chapter, but I tried lengthening it and it just came out... stretched. Like butter over too much bread, to quote one Bilbo Baggins. I hope you like it in any case, and I got it out ahead of time as recompense. As always, I welcome speculation, corrections, comments and feedback.


	12. Kindle - 4

It took four days for my rogue's license to arrive, and I didn't spend them idly.

Firstly, Dad didn't let me slack off on school work as he had during the 'holidays'. It didn't take up a massive amount of time or even effort, really, so I just got on with it. The sciences - the mathematical parts at least - were simplicity itself and the conceptual parts weren't much harder. Humanities were trickier, but being able to just get the concepts and remember the names the first time around made them easier too.

The real work was getting the business ready.

There were so many things that had to be done. Forms had to be filled out and sent to City Hall, a website built and wordings decided upon. Prices had to be drawn up for the different things I was intending to offer, a task which on its own ate up the better part of a day in research, comparisons with other rogues and the closest normal business analogues I could find, as well as checking everything against the guidelines the NEPEA-5 and the PRT set for rogues.

I spent most of the four days working on setting up my business, Aurum Solutions, and by the end of it I had a far greater respect for Dad's job than I had beforehand. He helped in the evenings, pointing out the mistakes I made and double-checking my workings as well as testing out the website, which I was hosting off of Dad's computer. I just left the glow in it constantly now, as there didn't seem to be any problems.

The only real sticking point I had was that of advertising. I wouldn't get far just advertising on free outlets like the Parahumans Online forums, but neither Dad or I had the spare funds to pay for an ad campaign. I suggested just going out in costume, taking advantage of the Bay's cape culture for publicity, but Dad shot me down. "It's too risky," he said, "with the gangs out there." I agreed. In the end, I resigned myself to a slow startup. Once I had some money I could pay for online advertising, which would hopefully let me get started on physical advertising.

The license arrived on Thursday afternoon, and I launched the website only an hour after I got it, along with posting my advertisement thread on PHO and sending off my first three programs - a virus sweeper, a web browser and a simple video game I'd whipped up - off to the PRT for their review. I kept the old thread up, leaving the stuff I'd already made free for download, but I couldn't use it to link to the new one. The programs I'd put up weren't tinkertech so I wasn't breaking a law, but I doubted the PRT would see it that way. No need to invite unneeded trouble.

The new thread didn't take long to pick up steam. The cape geeks came first, speculating on the exact nature of my powers from the information I included on my website. Some of the guesses were quite close while others were just wrong, hilarious or some combination of the two. My personal favourite was that I was actually an AI just pretending to be a cape, although there were plenty crazier ones. Following the cape geeks came the capes themselves, one by one. Glory Girl made a virtual appearance, as did Panacea and Parian, who congratulated me on getting set up properly.

I made a note to myself to go ask her about my costume sometime. It had slipped my mind in the excitement of telling Dad, the registration and getting everything in shape.

It took almost a day for the first person to actually apply for my services; a small tech firm in the southern part of the Bay. The work on my end consisted of catching a bus down there in the morning, enhancing a couple of computers and heading home, then returning in the evening to take back the glow and get paid and I went home four hundred dollars richer for about 20 minutes' work on my part. The best part of it all was that the manager wrote up a review on my website - with only a polite request on my part - and that served to get the ball rolling. I wasn't doing much to help anyone else yet, but it was a start. Over the following week, I got a few more job offers. All of them were for my enhancing abilities rather than anything else, but they were easy and they paid.

The PRT eventually got back to me over the programs, greenlighting the game and the browser. They wouldn't let me sell the virus sweeper to the public, however, on grounds of my having an 'advantaged position in that market' because of my abilities. They did, however, offer to buy copies themselves for a reduced price. It was more than a little annoying, but that was the law. It wasn't like developing it cost me much, and every cent counted. Their rate wasn't bad, anyway, and I'd be helping the heroes. They did attach a note on the game, though, that no-one had been able to make it past the first level, and that I should maybe tone down the difficulty a bit.

What I was really interested in, though, was a message that came alongside the approvals: a request from Armsmaster - Armsmaster! - to arrange a time for me to come over to the Rig again to test whether my enhancement power worked on tinkertech. Even more than that, he offered to pay my consultant's fee if for me to come over if I would cooperate with him in tinkering. I knew from my research that tinkers could often get inspiration from each other, and even if I wasn't really a tinker, I was sure that if nothing else I could get some ideas from watching him work.

Plus, he was _Armsmaster_. A hero! If I could help him help someone else, then that was almost as good as me doing it myself.

In the end I sent a message back and a date was set two weeks from now, as apparently his schedule was very full. I was looking forward to it so much, and Dad didn't hesitate to tease me over that.

He even brought up the Armsmaster-brand underwear, the traitor.

XxXxX

I woke up quickly, going from sleep to wakefulness in a moment, as I had for the last month. I didn't miss the haze of waking up, although I did kind of miss the way I could sort of loll in bed peacefully. Now I had the whisper of computers and the internet in the back of my head, and even if it wasn't distracting it was the kind of thing that you focus on when it's quiet and you're not doing anything else. My dreams had gotten pretty weird since I'd started leaving the glow in computers while I slept.

I groaned and got up, pulling on my clothes. It was a Saturday, and although I didn't have any jobs today I did want to get on with a couple of my own projects. I'd modified a CAD program a while ago so I could easily manifest designs from it in my glow - a tricky combination of software architecture and mental gymnastics, as I had to trick the glow into thinking that the screen it was displaying was actually in the shape of my model - and I had started playing around with some robotics, along with the programming to go with the designs. I had an idea that maybe I could make some kind of industrial exoskeleton to help the Dockworkers, both directly and by lending them the element of mystique and excitement that came with being associated with capes. Plus, the building of the exoskeletons, if I could get them to work, would itself provide jobs. I needed to try and make the game easier, too, if I wanted to sell it.

 _Maybe I can leave it as it is, but add easier settings?_

I crept downstairs, making sure not to wake Dad up. It was only 6 in the morning, after all, and he deserved to sleep in on a Saturday with how hard he worked. Breakfast was a sausage sandwich whose ingredients I had bought myself with my own earned money, an oddly thrilling experience. After I'd finished and washed up the plate, I slunk into the study and woke up the computer with a flex of will, opening up my official email. The latest entry immediately caught my eye.

Offer of employment [From: dschafer .com]

I blinked, then when the email failed to vanish I tried to contain my excitement. Medhall was one of the biggest employers in the Bay. If I got an endorsement them, it would mean that I could move up a good few pegs on the economic scale. Good reviews from single-office businesses were on thing, one from Medhall was quite another. I opened the email.

 _To Ms. Aurum_

 _We at Medhall would like to employ you as a consultant to the cyber-security team here at our head office, as your website explains that your parahuman abilities allow you special insight into computer systems. We would also like to hire you for your abilities to enhance our mainframe on a permanent basis, if such is possible._

 _I await your response with hope._

 _Yours_

 _Dominick Schafer_

 _Dominick Schafer_

 _Head of Information Technology and Computer Systems, Medhall Corporation_

It was everything I had hoped for and more. I almost replied then and there, but then I thought better of it. I'd show Dad when he woke up and see what he thought. He'd been in the business of dealing with people like this for far longer than me.

I closed the email and got to work on working the arrangement of the servos and miniature hydraulics for the exoskeleton's arms. I'd found half a dozen or so books and papers on the idea of powered armour, one even written by Dragon herself, and although most of them dealt more with what tinkertech people had been able to study than mundane technology or discussed the odd fact that so many tinkers built powered armour of one form or another, there was still plenty there I could use.

The issue I had with tinkertech was that all the designs and schematics I'd managed to get a hold of had holes in them. With most technology, provided I knew the basic principles I could string them together and puzzle out the function. With tinkertech I got a bit of the way, then there was a whole section just missing, then it picked up again. Way back in the 90s, Hero had released schematics for one of his older laser pistols in the hope that someone else could figure out how it worked. Looking at it, I could see the trigger mechanism and how that connected to the ruby flashtube, and then how the laser which emerged was focused and modulated through a set of lenses as well as how the flashtube was connected to the power source (which was left off of the schematics). The laser that emerged from the flashtube, though, was far too powerful. Despite the tube itself being very good, better than any normal lasers of its size at the time, its casing should have melted to slag before it got through the quasi-transparent mirror at the end. The lenses' focus was all wrong, too. If the numbers were right they should have scattered the laser to the point that it was more like a flashlight than a beam capable of boiling water. Of all the theories that people had come up with with regards to tinkertech, the one I liked best was the so-called 'multiple powers conduit theory' or MPCT, which suggested that tinker powers were in fact many very specific powers which worked unconsciously in conjunction with the technology to create its effect.

All of which was to say that although I couldn't just copy the designs that tinkers used for their power armour, there were useful bits in there that I could use. What little information Dragon had released on some of her oldest suits, ones she didn't use anymore and hadn't for years, had some particularly nice piston arrangements, very artful.

Dragon seemed to have a way of arranging things so that they could do many things at once, or so they could swap from one job to another fairly easily. Rigger's exoskeletons, by contrast, were brutally blunt objects, but had a kind of sensible practicality to them that I could appreciate: they were the work of someone who chose a job and made something to do that job. I was going for somewhere in the middle. My exoskeletons didn't need the versatility that Dragon's villain-fighting suits did, but I wanted them to be more widely applicable than Rigger's single-purpose designs.

I had an idea that maybe one day I could make something to help the PRT or police deal with capes themselves, but that was far off. For now, I was fiddling with the upper arm, trying to work out an arrangement which would work with human musculature and which could tolerate all the poses you could put an arm in while still providing a useful level of enhancement. I lost myself in the problem, tweaking a variable, running a simulation, taking the results and applying the results over and over again, creeping towards functionality. At the moment, I was pretty sure that if anyone but me or a brute tried to actually use the thing, it would probably snap most of the bones in their arms.

A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my work. I looked up to see Dad smiling softly down at me.

"Working early?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the P cheekily. "You're just late." I remembered the email. "Oh, I got this."

I formed a screen and swiped it up to anchor to his hand, then brought up the email. He read through it, and it was like a sun rose behind his eyes. He smiled, and this time it was blinding in its pride.

"You're going up in the world, Taylor."


	13. Kindle - 5

"Hi! You're Aurum, right?"

The cheerful, peppy voice cut into my contemplation of the twisting metal tree installed as the lobby's centerpiece. I looked to see where it came from and was met with a girl who didn't look much older than me. She wasn't anything to write home about - dull blonde hair, muddy eyes, pale skin - but her grin was bright and open.

"That's me," I replied.

"I'm Cassie Jones. I'm, like, the guide around here. Anyway, Mr. Schafer sent me to bring you up to the cy-sec. Sorry for the wait."

"It's no trouble," I assured her, standing up and slipping my laptop into the briefcase that I'd remembered to bring this time. "I got here early."

"Cool. The, uh, elevator's this way."

I followed the cheery girl and gave way for a gaggle of besuited men and women to get out before climbing into the mirrored elevator. Whispers and turned heads followed before they were cut off by the doors. Soft music began to play as the blonde-haired girl pressed the '8' button. The mirrored walls of the elevator reflected my mask to infinity.

"Cy-sec's on the eighth floor. They're really looking forward to meeting you. It's not often we get capes around, after all."

"I guess so," I replied, feeling a little awkward. I cast around for something to say. "Have you been working here long?"

"Not very long. Only, like, half a year? Thereabouts. I'm still basically the gofer. Mr. Schafer's, like, my… unofficial uncle, and he's pretty cool, but it's not like he can just punt me up to the corner office. So I'm the go-fetch girl."

"And I'm the fetchee?" I raised an eyebrow under the mask.

She blushed a little. "I guess so," she echoed. She paused, then asked, "What's it like being a rogue?"

I chewed my lip, debating whether to actually answer or brush it off. She seems friendly, after all. But…

In the end, I just shrugged. "What's it like not being a rogue? I don't really have much to compare it to."

"But, you didn't always have powers, right? I know capes go through some bad sh- stuff to get their powers, but after that, stuff must have gotten better, right?"

I thought back to how I had been before the cave, before my powers. I'd been Emma, Sophia and Madison's punching-bag, a living stress ball. My grades had been in the gutter and my spirits worse. Afterwards, I'd been able to escape from them, repair my relationship with my dad and even start my own - very profitable - business. I was even thinking about looking into taking my high school exams early, because I knew I could ace them. All that really held me back at this point was not wanting to show too unreasonable a difference, potentially risking my identity. The cave had been miserable, but for what I'd gained I'd suffer that isolation a hundred times over.

"Yeah," I replied, a smile blooming under my mask. "It did."

Cassie looked a little surprised at what I said, but before she could say anything the elevator dinged and the doors swooshed open. The room beyond was lit by ceiling-to-floor windows and was split up by a labyrinth of chest-high cubicles. Men and women looked up at us. I still hadn't gotten used to the looks and the stares.

The blonde-haired girl ignored them and led me down the central corridor and around a corner out of the cubicle farm and past a set of doors marked out as meeting rooms and offices, eventually stopping in front of one with 'D. Schafer' written on it in neat, embossed letters. She knocked twice, then opened the door.

"Aurum to see you, sir."

The office reminded me a little of the deputy director's at the PRT, but it was bigger and much fancier-looking, more like part of a swanky apartment than a place of business. It was spartan, but in a fashionable way rather than due to regulations or budget. Everything was glossy black, spotless white or rich, gleaming wood.

The head of computer systems was practically a poster child of the Empire's ideal man. Handsome face, white, blond hair, blue eyes and somewhere in his mid-twenties. He smiled warmly, and just like the deputy director I couldn't see any fakeness in it.

"It's good to meet you," he said, standing up and walking around the desk to shake my hand. His voice sounded like it belonged on TV as a narrator or a presenter. "I'm Dominick Schafer, head of computing and information technology, as you know from my email. Good to meet you."

"Good to meet you too," I replied, taking the offered hand. His grip was firm.

"I have the hard copy of the contract you sent with your reply here," he said, returning to the desk and picking up a neat plastic sleeve. "I've signed my parts. If you sign yours then we can get down to business."

I took the papers and scanned through them, just in case. I'd gone out of my way to make sure my contract was as simple and loophole-free as it could be, and Medhall had a pretty good reputation, but I was the daughter of a union rep. I had a healthy scepticism of the benevolence of big business. I'd made sure to include an easy get-out clause for myself, so I could terminate the contract when I wanted, just in case. Everything looked to be how it ought to be, though, and I scrawled my cape name on the dotted line of both copies in the sleeve. I kept one and handed the other back to the blond-haired man, who placed it carefully on his desk.

"Wonderful. Now, if you'll follow me, we can meet the team I'd like you to work with."

"Sure," I replied. The tall man swept out of the office and turned into the second meeting room on the right. He opened the door then stepped inside, holding it open. Beyond was a long table, around which were seated four people; three men and a woman.

"Aurum, I would like you to meet Jenny Carlsen, Michael Kramer, Alexander Smith and James Sanders. Team, this is Aurum, a cape with enhanced programming abilities and the power to enhance computers' functionality.

A small chorus of 'Hellos' and 'His' ensued which I returned, feeling a little awkward. Eventually, I ended up sat halfway down one side of the table with Cassie next to me and the rest of the team opposite. Mr. Schafer had settled into a seat at the end of the table. All of us had a laptop out in front of us, barring Cassie and the department head, although theirs looked much fancier than mine.

"To begin, Aurum, could you please demonstrate your power? I presume that you can affect all of our devices, seeing as you've done so for a number of businesses simultaneously."

"Yes, I can," I said. I raised my hands, palm-up, and let a cloud of the glow float up into the air. I could make out the intakes of breath as I split the cloud into five and sent the portions drifting off over the able to merge with the laptops. I closed my eyes against the initial rush of information, carefully keeping out of any of the files. There was a clause in the contract about the privacy of their data, and I wanted no reason for them to not give me my good recommendation.

"This is incredible," someone said, prompting me to open my eyes again. I felt the tingle of a program opening. A performance monitor. The woman, Jenny, continued "According to this… I could run the whole corporation's data traffic through this and have memory and capacity to spare."

Mr. Schafer glanced at me. "You only charge $50 per hour for this? You undervalue yourself, Aurum. Not that I'm complaining." He smiled jokingly.

"Pretty damn perfect, too," commented one of the men. Michael, I thought. "We were planning to run a systemwide diagnostic next week," he elaborated, "It usually takes about a day and it slows up everything else. We were hoping that your power would help speed it up, and if these numbers are right, we can probably get the diagnostic over with in minutes, if that."

"Kind of self-defeating, really," piped up another of the men, the auburn-haired, glasses-wearing James Sanders. "Charging by the hour for something that speeds people's work up that much."

"Getting back to the point at hand," Mr. Schafer interrupted, "You should have an email with a link in it that we sent this morning."

"I've got it."

"Good. The link is to the shared platform that the team is going to be using to test the system - a mock-hack, if you will. What I'd like you to do is to go to that platform and essentially point out any flaws, weaknesses or anything else you notice that could give them an advantage. The more you find, the better our security will be."

I blinked. That wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting.

"Okay? If you're sure."

"Don't worry, white-hat hackers do this kind of thing all the time," said Jenny. "We employ them on a regular basis. The idea with having you help is that although we know the system well, there might be something only a tinker would pick up on."

I opened my inbox and clicked the link. The webpage on the other end looked almost like a video messenger, only it had a coding box in the background.

Michael cracked his knuckles. "Alright, here we go."

The next hour and a half was spent probing the borders of Medhall's firewalls. I didn't really have a great deal to do. The defenses were good, and there were even a few tricks I made notes of for my own programming. I could have brute-forced the passwords with my enhanced computer, but they really were excellent. It would probably have taken me weeks to do so unless I bought a whole bunch of computers, daisy-chained them together and then enhanced them all together.

About half an hour into the session, Cassie struck up a bit of a conversation and we got to chatting quietly. I kept one eye on the task at hand, but it was hard not to get sucked into the conversation. It made me uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since I'd had a civil, friendly conversation with someone about my own age. It turned out that we were both into novels and we shared a long conversation on them.

I had preferred fantasy, but after the cave I'd gotten into sci-fi, particularly the older stuff written before tinkers started to show up. I liked to look at the stuff they talked about in the book and see if I could think of any way to do it myself. Cassie, though, was a diehard fan of fantasy, and after I mentioned _Lord of the Rings_ it took a glare from Mr. Schafer to get her to wind down from her rant on the fandom's opinions on Saruman. From there we meandered into a discussion of the merits of Roger Zelazny's _Lord of Light_ versus _The Chronicles of Amber_ and thence to a general back-and-forth on the nature of sci-fi, fantasy and what the two had in common. I made scattered comments throughout to the team on the security measures, but I really didn't have much to say. Finally, Mr. Schafer called the thing to an end.

"Alright, that's it for now. Thank you for coming, Aurum. I'll send the second half of your payment over right away."

"Thanks," I replied. I looked over at the team. "Um, I'm going to have to retract my power. It shouldn't do anything bad, but I'd save what you're doing if I were you."

There was a flurry of clicking keyboards as I folded up my own laptop and replaced it in the briefcase. Once all of the staff had indicated that they were done, I called the glow back to me. The connections winked out and I felt the tingly sensation of my power returning to me.

"Alright, that's it."

"It was great working with you," said Jenny, smiling. "How much did you say that boost was per hour? Do you sell to individuals, or only to companies?"

"Both," I replied. I remembered the business cards Dad had printed out for me that I had been keeping in my breast pocket. "Here's my card." I plucked one out and slid it over the table with a flourish, feeling at once very stylish and incredibly dorky.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome." I glanced at the clock on my HUD. I was a little later than I'd meant to be. Knowing Dad, unless I went now he'd start worrying himself to death. "OK, I've got to go. It was good working with you too."

"I'll see you down to the lobby," said Cassie, following as I started out of the door.

"If you want to," I said, kind of pleased. We walked over to the elevator and, after a short wait, climbed in. I pressed the 'G' button and the doors slid closed.

"Hey, do you mind if I have a couple of those cards?"

"Sure," I said, handing a pair to her. "If you want." I was a little confused as to why she wanted two, but that was quickly revealed as she plucked a pen out of her breast pocket and scribbled down a number on the back of one of the cards before handing it back to me.

"That's my number. Call if you want to, you know, meet up sometime. In-costume or not. You're cool to talk to."

I was a little taken aback. "OK," I said. I tucked the card into my trouser pocket. I didn't know whether or not I'd call it, but the warm feeling in my chest made me want to.


	14. Kindle - 6

"A pleasure doing business with you," I said as I picked up the renegotiated contract, immeasurably thankful for my full-face mask. I would never have managed to make that believable without it.

I'd been sat here for the last three hours hammering out the details of the new contract with the representatives of Lunar Technologies, the very first firm I'd worked for, and even with Dad giving me advice from a distance and reminding me to keep calm I felt like I wanted to throttle the lot of them. It was a week since I had been to Medhall, two weeks since I had gotten my rogue's license, and the 'trial period' of $50 per hour had come to an end for Lunar.

Honestly, we could have gotten the contract finished in half an hour if they hadn't been so goddamn pernickety. I'd warned them ahead of time that the initial rate wasn't going to be forever, but they had been dead set on keeping it that low. I wouldn't have minded that. It was perfectly understandable that they'd want to keep costs low. It was just how obtuse they were about the whole thing. I had the whole of rogue law on hand the whole time, but they insisted on double and triple-checking every last point, only to come to the same conclusion I'd given them at the beginning. They had the grace to look a little ashamed at the end, as I'd dealt in nothing but good faith, but that didn't really help reduce my annoyance.

What did help was that it was over now, I had a copy of the renegotiated contract safe in my briefcase and I was on my way back to catch the bus that would take me back into town.

I was still pissed, though, enough that I didn't notice the pair of white vans pulling up, one in front of me and one behind, until the doors had opened and half a dozen men had piled out.

I had a second to take in the men's appearance - scruffy, dirty, dishevelled, barely better than hobos, save for one in a bright red hoodie with a crimson scarf around his mouth - and then they were on me, grabbing at me. I dropped the briefcase and ducked below one's swing, coming up again with a fist aimed at his stomach even as I tried to step to the side.

Someone else crashed into me from the side, knocking my arm off course so that my fist sank harmlessly into his puffer jacket. I stumbled, and that was enough. I was overwhelmed by a wave of stink and bodies and unintelligible shouting. Arms clasped tight around my body and limbs. I tried to kick out at them, throw them off and I did, but when one let go another took their place. I yelled and fought, but they bundled me off the sidewalk and into one of the vans. Four men climbed in with me, two clinging to my arms and the other grabbing me around the waist, while the rest peeled off and vanished behind the closing doors.

The man dressed who had closed the doors turned around and I recognized him. He was Barb, a cape that had been running with the Merchants for a couple of months now. No-one was really sure about the details of his power, but he was superhumanly agile and had a body count. Over a dozen people were confirmed to be killed by him, and another two dozen were suspected to be his work. Rumour on PHO was that he was on the way to the Birdcage the next time he got caught.

I struggled harder, wrestling one hand out of the grip of one of the men and catching him in the head with a good hit. He went down, stunned, but before I could do anything else Barb leapt forwards and punched my shoulder. Pain lanced through me like fire. Even through the separation my power gave me, it was enough to make me pause for the moment it took for Barb to get a grip on my arm, twisting it and wrenching at my shoulder. I felt something wet dripping down my chest and soaking into my suit.

"Alright - girly," he said, sounding like he gargled pebbles daily. "Let's get you hooked up." The guy I'd dropped to the floor was picking himself up.

"Fuck you! Get the fuck off me!" I yelled, buoyed up by adrenaline and defiance.

"Get the fucking dose, dipshit!" yelled Barb. The other guy said something unintelligible back and started fumbling around on the van's floor. I felt it start to move. Panic flooded through me. I redoubled my efforts.

"You better quit fighting, bitch, or I'll make sure shit's all downhill from here for you. Squealer wants you for some fuckin' tinker shit, but you don't need your legs for that. Fuckhead! Where's the fuckin' dose?!"

The other guy had found what he was after, and when he straightened up what he had in his hand sent a chill right to my core. It looked like a syringe, if a syringe had a metal ring around the needle - needles, I realized. There were a half-dozen. So it's harder to break, some part of me realized. I'd heard stories about this, of the Merchants forcibly addicting people to their drugs then recruiting them by offering them their fix.

"Well? Stick it in her!"

I squirmed this way and that, eliciting grunts and curses from the gangers holding me. Barb wrapped an arm around my neck and squeezed, but I fought on. He had succeeded in restricting my movements, though, and the other two guys kept me still enough that the one with the syringe could yank at my suit, sending buttons flying off in all directions, pull up the T-shirt I wore underneath and plunge the injector into my belly.

I felt the needles go in like tiny icicles, and then the other guy slammed down on the syringe's plunger.

Within seconds, I felt a hot, tingly fuzziness wash over me. Dark spots danced in my eyes for a moment then retreated, still there but distant. _Like the pain,_ I thought.

The Merchants - they had to be - were looking down at me expectantly. They thought that whatever they'd stuck in me would subdue me, I realized. I couldn't fight them like this. I needed an advantage.

I went limp, sinking down bonelessly into their arms, against all my instincts. The gangers lowered me to the floor.

"There we go," drawled Barb. "Now you just sit quiet there and enjoy your high. You'll be getting plenty more of those. Now, let's see what's under that fancy mask of yours, shall we?" He grabbed the plastic face covering and pulled it away. I resisted the urge to react to the snap of the elastic, infinitely grateful for the fact that my actual mask wasn't something he could just pull away like that.

He looked at the plastic in his hand, then back to my still-covered face. "A real fuckin' special mask you've got there. Eh, don't really matter. I was just wondrin' if you were pretty." He tossed the mask carelessly to the floor. "Not like you've got tits to make up for an ugly face." He slumped down against the opposite wall and pulled out a phone which he fiddled with. I ignored him. I had other things on my mind.

The floor of the van was rough, dirty and, most importantly, it had holes. I closed my eyes, concentrating on my power, keeping my mask bright and gold while dimming the rest to near-invisibility. Then I sent out searching tendrils through the floor and into the workings of the van. After half a minute of searching, I found what I was looking for: the van's computer. Eagerly I swarmed it, insinuating myself into its working and feeling out its functions.

It was crude even in comparison to my phone, but that wasn't important. What was was the fact that it managed the engine, making sure that all the parts worked in synchronicity, as well as sending the signals to the brakes.

I had no idea where I was, and the traffic wasn't heavy in this part of the city. Better to stop us now, but I needed to stun them, to buy myself enough time to get out of the van. And I didn't like my chances even then. They had the numbers to drag me back in, and they wouldn't fall for the same trick twice - they'd probably just bludgeon me into unconsciousness the second time, or worse. Then I remembered the phone in my pocket, the one Dad had got me at Christmas. There was no way I'd be able to use it manually, but…

I pulled out another trace of the glow and linked to the phone, muting it immediately. It was nothing special, it couldn't even connect to the internet, but it did have a couple of basic functions apart from texts and calls, GPS amongst them. I rifled through the contacts until I found the number Armsmaster had put on the invitation to come to the Rig and dialled it. It rang once, then picked up.

"Armsmaster. Who is this?"

 _Aurum,_ I said. It was easy enough to trick the simple computer into thinking its microphone was picking something up. _I've been kidnapped by the Merchants. They've got me in a van, and they tried to drug me._

The cape's tone shifted to one of deadly seriousness. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

 _Give me a moment, and I'll get you GPS coordinates._ The phone's GPS wasn't meant to transmit to an outside source. However, I could take the data it produced and send it via text. It took almost 30 seconds to find the data, reformat and send it, but I managed to do so without drawing any attention from my captors.

"I have your location," said Armsmaster. "I am approximately three minutes away. Try to stall them however you can."

 _I intend to_ , I replied, then hooked my fingers into the nearest holes in the floor and mentally stamped on the left-hand brake, flooring the accelerator at the same time.

The van leapt forwards then veered to the side amid a chorus of shocked yells. The driver yanked on the steering wheel, but the van had electrical steering rather than mechanical, so his efforts did nothing. With an almighty crash and a jerk that sent men flying this way and that the van hit something and came to a stop.

My head was still ringing with the impact as I leapt up, jumping for the door. I fell on the handle, pushed it down and tumbled out onto the sidewalk.

XxXxX

 **A/N:** So yeah. That happened. As always, comments, thoughts, criticism, corrections and speculation are more than welcome.


	15. Kindle - 7

I fell in an ungainly heap on the filthy asphalt but picked myself up as quickly as I could, looking around. I was almost at the intersection of three blocks of apartment buildings which towered over the street like great, grey, water-stained monoliths. I took off running towards the crossroads. Maybe I'd get away even without Armsmaster's help!

There was a clatter behind me, but I didn't turn. I was almost to the corner.

There was a sharp crack, and the world slowed to a crawl. I dived to the right, but the shot caught me in the thigh, the impact of it throwing me out of what should have been a graceful roll-and-up-again into a messy tumble. I pushed down the pain and the cold, uncomfortable feeling of the bullet lodged in my flesh and climbed to my feet.

It was Barb, bloodied, bruised and furious-looking, who had crawled from the smoking van and shot me. He advanced up the road and I could imagine the snarl on his face. Is he a brute? I wondered. He didn't look much the worse for wear for the crash, considering he hadn't been holding onto anything.

"You're not gettin' away that easy, bitch," he said, tossing the gun aside. Something like a heat haze gathered around his hands, lensing the light around them as though they were encased in jagged, shifting glass. I didn't like the look of that. "Now. You can either come quiet-like, or I can fuck you up and drag you in."

I drew myself up straighter as I felt the bullet in my leg work its way out and fall to the ground. I could feel the wound in my shoulder itching furiously and its wet trickle drying up - not healed, but not bleeding anymore. The longer I had, the better for me. I kept backing off towards the intersection. I caught a glimpse of my glowing mask in a window and an idea thundered into my head. I knew how to win this.

Concentrating, I called out to the glow that was still bound up in the Merchants' van. I'd used more than I'd really needed to, but that didn't matter now. I summoned it back towards me, keeping it dim, then commanded it to form into a mass behind Barb's hood, where he couldn't see.

I called out to him, trying to keep him focused on me. "Why does Squealer want me, anyway? I thought Skidmark was on top of your gang."

Barb shrugged. "She's a tinker. Who the fuck knows why she wants you. And Skidmark? He's a fuckin' joke. All he can do is push shit around. Now you just stop backin' off and I won't have to turn your legs to fuckin' meat."

He'd noticed, then. I pushed my intent into the glow, showing it what I wanted it to do but holding it back.

"And don't think about tryin' to run. I'm faster than you, bitch, I promise you that."

"Maybe," I said, and let my power go, blinking my eyes closed. Instantly, the dust - there's a name! - I'd gathered behind his head burst into a sphere and blazed with light. The Merchant cape yelled in surprise, cursing up a storm, but I didn't wait to see the results. Ignoring my calf's protests, I took off around the corner, sprinting as fast as I could go. I was almost a block away by the time I felt it.

I was always aware of my dust in a peripheral fashion and could tell its general direction from me. The clump I'd anchored to Barb's head seemed to dim in my awareness, then vanished like a candle in the wind. One moment there, the next just _gone_. I stumbled with surprise before getting back into my stride. My mind whirled. I'd never come across this problem before. Did my dust have a… battery it ran on? And it just ran out?

I pushed the thoughts away. I needed to keep running right now, and without my dust blinding him Barb would be able to chase me. My thoughts flickered to my phone, and I realized suddenly that the line to Armsmaster was still open.

 _I've got away from the Merchants,_ I projected down the line, saving my breath for running. _I'm running along_ \- I glanced up the road at the sign - _Railman Street. Going, uh, southeast._

"I'm on my way," he replied, clipped and serious, and I almost giggled at how stereotypically heroic a phrase that was. "Do you believe that you have lost your kidnappers?"

 _I do._

"Then please remain where you are and find somewhere to conceal yourself. I will be at your location in approximately two minutes." He hung up.

I ducked sideways and behind a chest-high, graffitied wall that ran around one of the apartment buildings. It was more for show than anything, as there was no gate. I sat down in the corner of the wall on a dry-looking paving slab. My suit was already torn, bloodied and ruined; some dirt didn't really matter. I pulled out the neck to get a look at my shoulder. The wound was the dull brown-red of a scab and the itching was beginning to set in on my leg as well.

Sure enough, about a minute later I heard the telltale growling roar of the hero's motorbike. I peeked over the top of the wall to make sure it was him then, as he rounded the corner, stepped out. The bike slowed to a halt.

"Are you injured?" said the hero, holding his halberd in his hand. I belatedly realized what the blood covering my leg and shoulder would probably look like to someone else.

"I am, but they're scabbed over. I'm not bleeding," I said.

"Good," he said curtly. "Climb on behind me and try not to agitate your wounds." I blinked. He really was blunt. I did as he said, though. I mean, _I got to ride on Armsmaster's bike!_ My younger self would have killed to be where I was, and even now, even while I was still coming down from the adrenaline high of the kidnapping, there was a part of me fangirl-squealing in the back of my mind.

As soon as I climbed on, a pair of braces clamped down on each of my legs, holding them to the sides of the bike. "To keep you on," he explained as he pulled away, the bike suddenly much quieter than it was earlier. "Panacea is currently at the PRT HQ with her sister. She has been notified that an injured rogue is coming in and has agreed to treat you."

I wasn't really sure what to say to that. _Armsmaster and Panacea in one day. What did I do to earn this?_ Then I remembered the kidnapping. _Maybe it's karma_ , I thought to myself, smiling a little.

Armsmaster wove in and out of the traffic as we drove into downtown. The buildings climbed higher and higher and replaced stained paint with glass until finally he pulled into a street down the side of the PRT building.

He clicked something on his handlebars and a garage door opened up for him to drive through into what looked like a small car park. The hero dismounted and once the braces retracted I followed suit, stumbling a little as I put weight on my injured leg and it reminded me that it hadn't healed yet.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, steadying me. I looked up to find not Armsmaster but a PRT trooper, her face uncovered. "Ah, thanks."

"No problem," she said, steadying me as the adrenaline finally subsided.

"I have to return to my patrol," said Armsmaster, climbing back onto his bike.

"Thank you for, uh, picking me up."

He said nothing in reply, his face still set in a grim line as he turned the bike around and drove back out of the miniature car park.

"He's always like that," said the trooper. "Don't hold it against him. Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "It was just kind of a surprise getting off the bike."

"Best not to put more weight on that leg than you need," she asserted. "Lean on me, and we'll get you to Panacea. Glory Girl's visiting the Wards and her sister came along."

It took less than a minute to get there, riding the lift down from the car park to the Wards' base. When we got to the bottom the door binged loudly and made a loud, long, buzzing tone, but the doors didn't open.

"It's to give the kids time to put on masks if they haven't got them already," the trooper explained. I nodded in understanding, then the doors swished open.

Panacea was waiting just inside, while two teenagers sat on a sofa behind her playing some kind of video game, one guy in a domino mask and one with the unmistakable tiara of Glory Girl. The famous healer looked younger, smaller and tireder than I'd imagined her and how she'd looked on the rare occasions she came on TV for an interview. She glanced up as we approached, then pushed herself up and out of her chair.

"Aurum, right?" she said, reaching out a hand towards me. Then she blinked, seemed to realize something and pulled it back, shaking her head like she was annoyed with herself.

"Yeah," I said, then mentally kicked myself. "It's, uh, great to meet you."

"You too," she replied, not really sounding like she meant it. Now that I looked closer, she looked like she hadn't slept in a week. You could have gone to the grocery store with the bags under her eyes.

The trooper interrupted my scrutiny. "Shall we get you sitting down before Amy here works her magic?" I shrugged. "Whatever's best."

"Alright then." The trooper steered me over to a big, hard-looking dark pleather swivel-chair, which I sank down into gratefully. Panacea trailed behind. "Um, do I have your permission to heal you?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, a little confused and not entirely sure how to react to that, but offering a hand. "Thanks very much."

She ignored my thanks and reached out a hand as if to shake. I took it with my uninjured arm. As we made contact she reared back a little, blinking. "Oh. Oh, wow."

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's… it's just your biology's… quite something."

"What do you mean?" I asked, interested. I knew that my biology had changed after my trigger, but I hadn't exactly been able to get a good look at it. I'd have had to vivisect myself, and I was in no rush to do that.

"Um, OK, so my power kind of lets me 'see' the biology of what I touch, right? It's what lets me find diseases and stuff," she explained. I nodded. "Well, your physiology is _weird_. Not in a bad way! It's… It's like someone took the human body and asked themselves 'OK, how can I make this better?' then did it. Your muscle fibres are denser, your cells have less chance of harmful mutation, hell, even your _enzymes_ are more efficient and hard to denature. And you've got these… I don't really know what to call them. Lumps, kinda? These little spaces I can't see, a little tiny node by each of your nerve endings, pressure sensors, everything. And when the nerves are triggered, the signal just disappears from there and appears somewhere else. _You don't have reflex arcs._ The signals are here," - she poked at my finger - "Then 'poof', and they're here," - she poked at the side of my head - "Then back again. It's the same thing in your _brain_ , too. The signals just appear and disappear."

She leaned back and squinted at me. "Your power is _weird_."


	16. Kindle - a

It was difficult, trying to concentrate on talking to the rogue with the golden, shifting mask. It was just _fascinating_ , watching her body work. So many inefficiencies, so many little, silly faults of dumb, iterative design she'd seen a million times over in a million people simply not there, replaced with a physiology that ran like an atomic clock compared to a kid's plastic watch. And then there were the parts that she couldn't see. There was definitely something working in Aurum's body besides normal biology. The nerves were the obvious part, but when she looked closer almost every organ was doing things which it shouldn't physically be able to do. Enzymes were colliding with their substrates at a greater rate than they ought to at their temperatures, waste materials left the cells with incredible speed and in the muscles there were bands of something that she couldn't see. She couldn't even tell exactly what those did, but she was sure they had some function. The rest of her body was so perfect a construction it would be strange for something not to have a reason to be there.

"Um, so, that's awesome and all and I'd love to talk to you about it, but, uh, can you do anything about, like, my shoulder and my leg?"

Amy started, then blushed. "Uh… did I say all that out loud?"

"Um, just the stuff about the muscles. That's really interesting to know, actually."

"You're welcome, I guess," Amy said. "Uh, here you go." A flicker of will was all it took to set the cells dividing to patch up the wounds. Another thought created a brace of enzymes to digest the traces of contaminant from the wounds, then denatured them back into amino acids once their work was done. "You didn't really lose much mass from those wounds, but you should make sure to eat well for a while. Plenty of proteins."

"Okay," Aurum replied, and Amy got the impression that she was smiling underneath the mask, despite the eyes like steady golden coins. "Seriously, thanks. I don't know what I'd have told Dad. Um, the Merchants stuck something in me. A syringe. Is… there anything left from that?"

The healer blinked. She hadn't noticed anything acting on Aurum's system, and she certainly didn't look drugged. Now that she concentrated on looking for that, though.

"Huh. There is some there. Looks like… a combination muscle relaxant, hallucinogenic and psychotropic. Those weird nerves of yours are helping you out again, though. The drug's reacting with your system, but the signals just aren't getting to your brain." She frowned again. "No, they are, but… ugh, I don't even know how to describe it."

It reminded her vaguely of when she healed people who were asleep, the odd flashes of activity they got in their brains as they dreamed. The difference was that with Aurum she couldn't see the action potentials travelling along the nerves, and even then the patterns were different.

"Nevermind. I'm guessing you want me to get rid of the drugs?"

"Yes please," said the rogue. Amy noticed a slight increase in the levels of stress hormones. She didn't like the idea of the drugs. Not really a surprise. Not many in the Bay outside the Merchants or various addicts did. It all too-common an occurrence to see someone ODed in hospital or freaking out on a bus. _Not,_ Amy reflected, _That I go on buses much anymore_. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. _That's what Vicky's for._ Then the guilt flooded back and she concentrated back on healing Aurum. The drug molecules broke down quickly and Amy reluctantly released the rogue's hand. She immediately felt the absence of the marvellous chemical clockwork of her body almost physically, but pushed it away.

"OK, there you are."

"Thanks so much," said the gold-masked rogue. "If there's ever anything I can do to help, please let me know. I've, ah, got my number… here!"

She pulled a slightly bent card from her breast pocket and handed over. There was a slight bloodstain on the corner, but a brush of Amy's thumb over it sterilized it and killed off the bacterial colonies that were already starting to grow.

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind," she said automatically. She'd had plenty of people give her their cards before after she healed them or cured their cancer or leukemia or gout or whatever, but somehow this felt different. Maybe it was because Aurum's body was just so _incredible-_

Amy blinked. There was more than one thing wrong with that thought. If she'd said it aloud, she shuddered to think what Vicky would have made of it. She'd never have been able to live it down.

A hand fell on Amy's shoulder and she jumped, whirling around to meet the grinning face of her sister. Her feet were a foot off the ground.

"Don't _do_ that, Vicky!"

"But your face is so funny!" the elder sister laughed. Her eyes flickered past the healer to Aurum, then down to the business card that was still in her hand. The edges of her grin threatened to reach her ears. "Ooooh, and what have we here? Exchanging _numbers_ , Ames? And without even introducing your sister! For shame," Vicky teased.

"Vicky," Amy warned.

"Oh, I'm just teasing. But seriously, you wanna introduce us?"

"Um, I'm Aurum," piped up the rogue, sounding a little overawed. "I'm, um, a rogue. I, uh, kinda ran into some Merchants which is why…" she trailed off, gesturing at the ruddy stains on her suit.

"Fucking scum," said Vicky, her face curling into a disgusted sneer. "You alright?"

"Well, I am now. I, uh, got shot, a bit, but Panacea's just helped me out with that."

Vicky grinned again. "Yeah, my sister's great isn't she?" Amy tried to ignore the curl of warmth that settled in her stomach at that. "So, what do you, you know, do? I mean, there's been no, like, arrests by a new hero on the news or PHO. Are you just starting out?"

"She's a rogue," Amy interjected. "She's got a website."

Vicky floated back a fraction. "Oh, cool. The only rogue I know is Parian, and she never wants to talk."

"That's because whenever you try it's at one of her performances, Vicky."

"Yeah, well, that's when I know where she is. So, you're a rogue, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?"

Aurum raised a hand. A moment later, a glowing, golden mist floated up and out of the skin, gathering into a rough sphere in the air. "Well, I can add this to computers and 'upgrade' them, so I've been selling the use of that. Also, I'm really good at programming, so I've been writing programs and selling those, too. I've got a few other ideas coming, but that's what I've been doing so far." The rogue's stance shifted and the golden mist flowed back into her hand. "Though I might have to dial back a bit. For a while at least. I don't exactly want to get kidnapped again." She rubbed her arms uncomfortably, then seemed to realize something. "Shit!"

Amy looked on in bemusement as Aurum fumbled a cellphone from her pocket and dialled. It rang briefly, then was picked up.

"Dad?"

There was an indistinct exclamation on the other end.

"I'm-I'm fine. I'm at the PRT headqu- No, I'm not hurt... I'm fine, Dad, I'm fine... Really... No, not Ta- me-fine, actual fine…"

It was kind of unsettling, Amy reflected, watching the rogue talk so normally when she had a blank, ever-shifting mask for a face. The eyes definitely didn't help. _Although the look might be useful when you're intimidating someone,_ she mused.

"OK, I'll see you there. Love you too, Dad," said the rogue, then lowered the phone from her ear.

"OK, I've got to go. Thanks so much for helping me, Panacea, and it was, uh, great to- meet you Glory Girl."

"You're welcome," said Panacea. "And be careful."

"Heh. I will. Thanks again."

Amy watched the back of the gold-masked rogue until it vanished behind the door.

"So," said Vicky. "You wanna play with me and Dean? It's Mario Kart."

Amy looked over at where Dean was still sitting on the sofa, and at the paused video game.

"Okay." Maybe it would help her keep her mind off all the ideas that were suddenly flooding through her head.

"Great! Who d'you wanna be?"

XxXxX

That night, Amy lay awake in her bed, trying to push the images and ideas out of her mind. Is this how tinkers feel? She didn't really talk much with Kid Win, but he was always scribbling stuff down when Vicky dragged her over to sit at the totally-not-the-Wards table in Arcadia's cafeteria.

She reached up and rubbed at her face, then glanced over at the clock. 00:07 blinked back at her. She groaned. The twiggy shadows of the tree in the garden waved across the curtains, seeming to beckon to her.

 _I could…_

Amy turned over, looking away from the window. No.

Minutes crept by. The tree creaked and whispered. Ideas percolated through her head. Trees grown into houses. Plants growing medicines. She'd had them before, but she hadn't mentioned them to anyone. She wouldn't be able to do it, anyway. The pharmaceuticals companies would be up in arms over the very proposal, and building companies wouldn't be far behind.

The tree called out to her.

 _What if I did something just for me? Just for fun? Got a shoot and… played with it. Made some flowers..._

 _Fuck it._

She threw off the covers and padded downstairs, carefully avoiding the creaky step, before letting herself out into the back yard.

There wasn't much there, just a small not-quite-square of grass bordered at the end by what was meant to be an artful rock-garden and on the sides by head-height fences. The old apple tree stood leaflessly off-center, waving in the night wind. Amy shivered, feeling goosebumps raise up on her arms. It was cold with just her pyjamas on. She reached up to grab at the lowest branch of the tree and pulled it away, killing off a layer of cells at its base to make it easier. Quickly, she grabbed a pot from the small shed that clung guiltily to the side of the house and scooped up a few handfuls of dirt from the rock garden to fill it before planting her apple twig.

By this time the cold had gotten all the way through her pyjamas and she was shivering in earnest, so the frizzy-haired girl beat a retreat back inside and up to her room, being careful not to get any mud on the carpet. Once she reached her room, she set the pot on her windowsill, brushing aside a collection of other knick-knacks to make a space. A couple minutes' work remoulded the stick into a plant in itself, extruding roots from the base and leaves from the stem. Delicate pink flowers unfolded in the moonlight.

Amy sat back on her bed, staring at the new plant. Ideas raged in her head like a storm, but she felt more like she could manage them.

Her dreams were full of trees and beasts and forests that throttled skyscrapers.


	17. Catch - 1

It didn't take long for Dad to get to the PRT headquarters, but by the time he had arrived I'd changed into a set of clothes I'd bought in the gift shop - the cheapest I could find - and was keeping my costume in the carrier bag. He worried at the best of times, and him seeing me with a bloodstained suit wouldn't help anyone, least of all me. As it was, it took ten minutes to assure him that everything was fine before I could get in the car in the side carpark and we could leave.

The drive home was quiet - or as quiet as a drive home in the Brockton Bay evening ever was. Engines droned, sirens wailed in the distance and the Beatles sang tinnily out of the old radio. Inside the car, though, the silence was like lead. We didn't talk. Occasionally, Dad glanced over at me, as if to reassure himself that I was still there, still OK.

On the way we pulled by the spot where I'd been kidnapped and found that my briefcase was miraculously still there, having fallen into the shadow of one of the buildings. I opened it up as we drove away and checked inside. The papers were still alright, but the laptop's casing was cracked. It still booted up, though, so I chalked that up on the 'good things that happened today' list. It needed some fleshing-out.

When we finally arrived home, Dad sank like a stone into the chair in the living room.

"What happened?" he asked bluntly. Something flickered in his eyes. There was worry there, but something else, too.

Gingerly, I settled down on the edge of the sofa and started my story. I began from my leaving Lunar Technologies' offices and, bit by bit, told the tale. I left out some parts and downplayed what I could, but nevertheless by the time I'd gotten to Armsmaster's arrival, Dad's knuckles were white where he had clenched them together in front of him. A long moment passed as his jaw worked and no sound emerged. When he finally spoke, his voice shivered with emotion.

"We should have been more careful. I shouldn't have let you walk back. I shouldn't have let you go out so soon."

"Dad-"

"You were attacked, Taylor!" he burst out, suddenly, almost standing up. "You were attacked, and they almost got you. If you hadn't been clever - no, if you hadn't been lucky, I'd be talking to the police right now, and you'd be strung up in some drug dealer's back room! God!"

He stood and started pacing back and forth.

"You're not going to go out on business like this. Not for a while, at least. If you have to - if you _absolutely have to_ \- I'll be driving you."

"Dad, you can't," I said. "If someone sees you-"

"Then I'll wear a fucking mask! It doesn't matter, Taylor! You're more important than that. More important than however much money."

I was about to reply, then he turned and there was something new in his eyes, a white-hot certainty.

"Leave the offline business."

I blinked. "But, we just got a deal with Medhall! I'm on the way up! I can't just stop now!"

"You can, Taylor Anne Hebert, and you will. In fact, you are hereby grounded."

"How long?" I asked, surprising myself with how cold my voice had gotten all of a sudden.

"Until I say it's over," he replied. He sounded like he was trying to be firm, but his voice was verging back onto a shout.

A part of me wanted to just go with that, the same part that was always just a little scared when Dad had gotten angry at someone when I was little. Most of me wasn't like that, though. Most of me wasn't scared, or didn't care. Maybe it was something about having powers. Maybe it was more to do with having gone out and done my own thing. Either way, I wasn't going to back down.

"No," I said. It came out like a statement, and it looked like Dad had been punched in the stomach. "I won't go out looking for trouble, but I won't be grounded just because some fuckers jumped me."

"Taylor, you're not leaving this house until I am confident that you'll be-"

"Safe? I'm never safe when I go outside in this city, Dad, no-one is. That's what the Bay is now. We're the fucking cape capital of America, with gangs on the side! I'm trying to change that!"

"And you can't change anything if you're dead!" Abruptly Dad turned and, with a yell, punched the wall. When he turned back to me he was nursing his hand and looked no less angry, but he seemed to have put a lid on it. He ran a hand shakily over his face, collecting himself. "Let's… let's not talk about this now. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay," I said. "Dinner?"

"Dinner."

XxXxX

After dinner had been cooked and eaten, Dad went out, saying he was going to go and meet up with Kurt. I knew that likely meant he was going to get something to drink and I tried not to hold it against him, but it was hard. Once the car pulled away, I picked up the phone and dialed Kurt and Lacey's number for the first time in months. It took me a moment to remember it and I suppressed a twinge of guilt. They'd been good to me when I was younger. The phone rang.

"Hello? Kurt Stirland speaking."

"Hi, Kurt, it's, uh, Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Taylor! Long time no speak." I could hear the smile down the line. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. "Look, um, Dad said he was going to meet up with you and, uh, he's had a bad day…"

"I'll take care of him," Kurt said. "And I'll keep him out of trouble. You and Danny should come around sometime. We haven't seen you in ages." He chuckled. "I remember when you were only up to my waist."

"That sounds nice," I said, for lack of anything else. "Um, thanks."

"I'm always happy to do a favor for you and Danny. Heavens know you deserve it. It was great to speak to you again, Taylor."

"You too. Bye."

"Bye."

The phone clicked off. I dropped it back onto its little pedestal and wandered upstairs, snagging my briefcase on the way. Now that everything was over, now that I'd been to the PRT, I'd got home and I'd talked to Dad, I just felt done. Spent. Not tired, not in a physical sense, but just… emotionally overworked.

I pulled the laptop out of the briefcase and booted it up, meaning to go on the internet for a bit, then stared at the gold which was habitually flowing out of my hand. The dust I'd used on Barb had vanished. I'd never encountered a time limit before. Was it possible that one day I'd just… lose my powers? That they'd run out of battery, leaving me no better than I was before?

 _No_ , I assured myself. _No power, ever since Scion had turned up in the eighties, has run out of battery. You're not going to be the first._

The worry still lingered, though. I set the laptop aside. _Okay, let's test this out._ I gathered up a pea-sized globe of dust and, slitting my eyes, set it alight as bright as I had with Barb. It blazed with a magnesium glare, sun-bright, and I screwed my eyes shut before cautiously opening them again. As it glowed, I could feel a slight draining sensation, like some tiny part of me was being sucked away down a tube. It was faint, and if I hadn't been looking I wouldn't have noticed, but it was there. Then, all of a sudden, the dust winked out like a dying star and I felt the same loss as before. It had stayed alight for more than a minute.

I chewed my lip. _Well, that's a point in favor of the 'power battery' theory._ A thought struck me. Back when I'd first gotten my powers, I'd wondered whether the glow was some tinker's creation. I'd dismissed it at the time, more or less, but now I wasn't so sure. It would make sense, after all, for a tinker to want to replicate powers. It was one of their biggest problems - because tinkers didn't have personal powers, they were vulnerable to abduction, extortion and attack. What if the glow had been exactly that - an attempt to manufacture powers? I thought back to what Panacea had told me about my biology. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. _The way she described my nerves as having little 'lumps' she couldn't see, the way signals jumped from one place to another… If I wanted to give someone superhuman reflexes, bypassing their nervous system in favor of instantaneous communication would be a good place to start._

I shook my head. No, this isn't the problem right now. I need to find some way to stop my power just dying on me.

Power was the issue, in all senses. The dust seemed to have some kind of finite battery or capacitor, and if I were designing something like this it would be stupid to make it one-use unless there was no other way to do it. I glanced down at the spot below where my little globe had been. _Let's start there._

I stood and went over to my desk. It took a minute or two to find the magnifying glass Dad had given me years ago for bug-hunting. Once I had it, I turned it on the spot where the dust ought to have fallen, if it didn't just vanish when it ran out of power. I had to look really closely but there was the slightest glint, specks of gold hiding amongst the fibres of the carpet. I grinned, then grimaced. _Well, that's something, though I should have done that over a dish._ I pursed my lips as I thought. I could get something to put the dust on and use up some more, but I was loath to do that because it would be using up more of the dust. _Let's try this first._

I drew out a tendril of the dust and sent it into the carpet, seeking out the lost particles. I pictured them lighting up again, igniting and returning to me. Nothing. I sat back on the bed with a _whump_.

 _Okay, what now?_ I refused to believe that there was no way to recharge my powers. Then the plug in the wall caught my eye and I could have kicked myself. _Of course. How do you charge a battery? You plug it in._

I sprag up off the bed and dashed down to the basement. I rummaged through the piles of stuff until I found what I was after: a plug Dad had taken off of some old appliance. I checked that the glow could meld with it - it could - and raced back upstairs to plug it in. At once, a tingling rush of power surged through me and I recognized it - it was the same feeling that I got when I linked to a computer, only a hundred times _more_. That must have been why the glow hadn't run out before: I'd always been supplying it with a little bit of power, or else I'd not used it long enough or hard enough for power to become a problem.

I extended a tendril towards the spot on the carpet and this time there was no resistance. The dust reignited in an instant and spiralled up into the air. "Yes!" I whooped throwing my hands up. I was grinning uncontrollably. I felt like I could jump to the stars, like I could run forever. My skin glowed and the dust danced above it. I blinked, then again, fascinated by the play of light.

My bedroom light flickered. I glanced up. The light on the street outside was flickering too. Realization crashed over me like a tsunami.

I lunged for the switch and clicked it off. The lights kept flickering. It took an almost physical effort, but I pulled the dust out of the plug and they steadied. Outside, the streetlamp glowed sodium-pink again. The feverish energy that had filled me ebbed and I sank slowly to the floor.


End file.
